Illusions
by D-chan
Summary: Orphen/Majik, Majik+Killiranshelo, past-Majik+Cleao, misc :: AU, OOCness, language, mild gore, shounen ai/yaoi :: Illusions, because not everything is what it seems...
1. Prologue

**:: Illusions ::**

_~Sorcerous Stabber Orphen~_

Disclaimer: I don't own Sorcerous Stabber Orphen or any of the characters. Rights go to Akita Sadanobu, and ADVision.

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: mostly undetermined, only vague hints so far

Warnings: complete AU, mild OOC (to be explained later), language

Notes: *claps* It's my new project! Praise me! .;;

Seriously, this is gonna be my new epic. None of my one-shots seem to want to work with me (with the exception of the Excel-fic I'm working on), including Ivy-san's prize-fic. Sorry, Ivy-san. I'm really trying, but it's hard to work on something you don't enjoy doing...

Anyway, this is going to be a supernatural fic. Run away now if you hate that kind of thing. Yes, supernatural, complete with vampires, witches, mages, sorcerers, demons, shapeshifters, werewolves, possibly even other, slightly more mythical things like elves and the like. If you know me, you'll probably know what pairing the fic'll end up with, but even I'm not completely certain. So as not disappoint anyone, I'll leave my options open for the moment.

Also, this is my attempt at making chapters longer, so there will most likely be longer updates in between things. After all, if I want to be a novelist I can't limit myself to five pages per chapter, right?

So this is just the prologue. Constructive criticism is highly welcome. Thank you.  
  


  
  


  
He was bored.  
  
It wasn't too unusual. He was, after all, very young, and though he understood much of what was going on, he'd caught enough of the plan the first time around. Why hash and rehash until every word had been used, broken and mutilated beyond all recognition? It was just stupid, and though he tried to have patience with it, he did *not* condone with stupidity.  
  
It wasn't his fault that he was a prodigy in nearly every way possible. Such things happened when you were undead and immortal.  
  
Two hundred years was considerably young for a vampire.  
  
Majik stifled a sigh, trying not to fidget. His elders didn't put up with his so-called insolence ("It's not my fault I can grasp concepts quicker!") but it was getting very monotonous, just listening to the same boring thing over... and over... and over...  
  
A tiny white fuzz was stuck to his sweater. Majik plucked it off, flicking it away absently as the vehement voices of his elders -- mostly men -- argued back and forth. His wide, innocent-seeming turquoise eyes caught a pair of deep-set crimson. The woman across the table smirked faintly at him, rolling her creepy but lovely eyes in a way that said, 'Yes, I must agree, this is stupid.'  
  
Majik grinned. Azalea was much more like him: a prodigy and very intelligent. They weren't close, but they got along fairly well because of this. She was very different from him, of course; Azalea was much more determined, set in her ways, persuasive without the use of powers, gorgeous... Not to mention she was a mage, very different from the vampire he was.  
  
But the war against spell-casters and the undead had ended long ago. There was only one race against the supernatural beings, and that race was considered superior even to them: they lived even longer, were more powerful, and abused this power in every way.  
  
The Demons were dying out, of course, but there were still the few that were considered high above all others. And it was _those Demons the Silver Moon was aiming to annihilate.  
  
Failure wasn't an option in this job.  
  
Majik leaned back in his chair, careful to choose a pen to toy with rather than a pencil. There wasn't a great chance he'd stab himself with the pointed wood, but even splinters hurt like hell. That was a huge disadvantage to the vampires; though powerful, the very essence of Life could kill them.  
  
He straightened up at once as he was addressed, his sharp senses picking out his name amongst the rumble of many voices. Tucking the pen behind his ear much in the fashion of a busy reporter for the daily news, Majik flashed a disarmingly sweet smile. "Yes?"  
  
His gaze was pinned with a pair of dark, unreadable eyes. "I'm counting on you," a cold voice said, piercing through the air. "Do you hear me? No foul-ups this time around."  
  
Majik kept his smile plastered in place; it had taken him years to perfect it, but he'd finally gotten the facial expressions down to pat and rarely set his master off anymore. "Don't worry," a high-pitched, feminine voice said to the smaller boy's right. A pale hand came to rest; he didn't have to look to see who it was. He could sense her thoughts vaguely. "We'll succeed this time around, sir."  
  
And beneath her soothing words was underlying determination. Perhaps she was as sick of getting the blunt end of the stick as he? Majik made sure to keep silent. Should he speak without her seeming permission, everyone would catch on to the little game.  
  
Funny. Two hundred years ago he would have been appalled at even thinking of toying with a female this way. Of course, he hadn't been expected to be bitten that night, either.  
  
"Everything is under control," Majik assured him, his voice dropping to a soft pitch, making him sound even more like a gentle girl that usual. He'd always been pretty, mistaken for a girl at a certain distance, and having the chiseled features of the undead didn't help that any. Ah, but it made him attractive, and that certainly __did help when he needed to feed.  
  
Speaking of which, he hadn't done so for nearly five days now. The lack of oxygen flowing through his deadened veins was beginning to make him wilt. Majik hated drinking from conscious human beings, unlike most of his kin. He didn't enjoy the struggling and rather hated getting blood all over him. It was bad enough he was one of the undead; why flaunt it?  
  
He tapped a pale wrist not far away from his own hand, eyes flickering to catch another pair of pale, glittering ice to convey the silent message. He could try linking minds with her, but no, not with *him* in the room. He'd give him a good whack with a club if he discovered Majik was trying too hard to be conservative again.  
  
"Are we quite finished?" the pinched voice asked sweetly. "It's far past Hunting Hours, you know."  
  
Pale red, almost pink eyes glittered with malice as a smirk curled their master's lips. "Of course. Good luck to you all."  
  
It was an insincere wish, but Majik smiled and ever-so-politely thanked him, pushing his chair in with great caution. Why, oh __why did their master insist on having wooden chairs? Damned bitter old sorcerer...  
  
Once outside, Majik turned his eyes to the tiny cluster of people around him. To his right was the blonde woman whose wrist he'd touched; she looked a bit like him in the way she had blonde hair, blue eyes and pale skin, but her hair was also paler, nearly silver, and his eyes were tinged with the barest hints of green.  
  
And, aside from that, she was *way* older than he.  
  
"That was pointless," said the crimson-eyed Azalea, pausing in her steps to glance at anyone else for agreement.  
  
Since no one seemed to want to agree, Majik spoke up. "Yes."  
  
"Perhaps you just whine too much," drawled a redhead young man with golden eyes.  
  
Azalea pinned him with a dark stare. "Really, Hartia, just because Majik and I are basically __smarter than the rest of you--"  
  
"Excuse me," the one addressed as Hartia cut in, baring sharpened teeth. One ignorant to the supernatural would believe him to be a vampire, but his gold eyes gave him away to a shapeshifter-- a werewolf, to be precise. "Just because you're the master's favourite sex toy doesn't make you any better than us!"  
  
Amused, Majik hung back to watch them bicker.  
  
Azalea scoffed. "Sex toy? Please. At least I'm not the one that had to turn into a bisexual just to make sure I got _something_."  
  
"There's nothing wrong with liking guys, too," snapped Hartia. "And at least I'm not a damned slut."  
  
"Excuse _me_. I'll have you know I have been faithful to my *sole* lover my entire life!"  
  
"Well, obviously, since he's that old..."  
  
Raising an eyebrow at the heated words spat between the two, Majik noted with his usual awe that Azalea was the one that overall kept her cool. She was poisonous in her words, yes, but throughout the entire argument her only facial transformations had been a slight stitch at the eyebrow and the barest curve of a scowl. Whereas Hartia, he grew livid and clearly agitated, due to his nature as a wild beast, perhaps. His lips would curl, his eyebrows would furrow deeply, and his voice would hitch with a growl.  
  
Majik didn't understand why Hartia insisted on fighting with the beautiful mage. Azalea was a master with words, weaving them into what she desired. Her voice could go so sweet as to be completely subtle in her intentions, blinding her victim of her true intentions until it was too late, or have sharp thorns from the very beginning, ready to prick and slash once the call was made.  
  
"Majik..."  
  
He didn't start at the voice, clearly expecting it to interrupt at any moment. "Yes, Cleao, I'm coming," he replied serenely, casting one last look toward Hartia and Azalea before bounding after the older vampire.  
  
Cleao stared at him for a moment, uncharacteristically serious. "Your mind was dull during the meeting, you know."  
  
"Mm hm," Majik agreed, stooping to pick up a rather large stone from the dirt path. He tossed it carelessly; the rock whizzed through the trees, not stopping until it smashed into what sounded like a cedar tree a good mile or so away. The blonde boy smirked.  
  
"Is the last mission still troubling you?"  
  
Majik cast her a startlingly dark look. "I appreciate your concern, Cleao, but I can assure you I don't need it. You _know_ the only reason I follow you around..."  
  
Cleao sighed and nodded, her positively fake, cheerful smile lighting her childish features. "Of course." She paused in her walking, glancing down at her toes as she nudged the dirt. "Shall we go hunting, then, or are you too weak?"  
  
Of course he wasn't _that_ weak, but Majik tended to use it as an excuse so he wouldn't have to see his victim's face before he put them into a trance, freezing their expression into that of horror before he sank his sharp fangs into the tender, hot flesh, blood singing through their veins, calling him...  
  
Shuddering and shaking the thought from his head, Majik managed to say in a controlled tone, "Yes, I do feel rather weak. I'll go rest and see you when you get back."  
  
Nodding, Cleao turned and disappeared into the forest, barefooted and in a swirl of silvery curls. Majik ran a hand through his dust golden hair, sighing heavily as though he'd just released a huge burden off his back. In a way, he had. He liked Cleao; she was all right, but she could be so __irritating sometimes. It took a lot of patience to deal with her, and Majik's two-hundred-and-fourteen-years of patience were stretching thin.  
  
Now he really was tired. Majik strongly suspected his -- their -- master had something to do with that, perhaps sapping the energy he so sorely needed. Ah, well. The sooner they could solve the current Demon problem, the better. Then he'd be free of the binding contract, free to escape from the master he loathed so much.  
  
A part of his long-buried innocence cried at the hatred burning through his soul as he melted into the shadows that night, its keen wails heard to no one but himself._


	2. Chapter One

**:: Illusions ::**  
  
_~Sorcerous Stabber Orphen~_  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Sorcerous Stabber Orphen or any of the characters. Rights go to Akita Sadanobu and ADVision.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairings: vague hints of Orphen+Majik and possible Cleao+Majik  
  
Warnings: AU, some OOC, language, mild gore (just blood)  
  
Notes: If anyone's curious, the mentioned cities and school do exist. Though I've never been to the school myself, I have been to the mall in Silverdale several times. I had to do a bit of research to find a good school, and I'll have to wing it from there. Sorry for any inaccurate information.  
  
Also, some of the books I mentioned I did enjoy reading. ^^; _Vanitas__: Escape from Vampire Junction is a sequel to _Valentine_ and __Vampire Junction by S.P. Somtow, though I'd advise delicate minds not to read them. It's confusing and gory and pretty sick. But we all know I have issues anyway. Also, the _Night World_ series __is a simple read, but enjoyable if you just want to pass time. I think most people have heard of __The Silver Kiss, but if not, it's a decent story and I would reccommend it if you liked vampires and romance. V.C. Andrews doesn't write supernatural, but if you like heavy angst, drama and twisted family secrets, I'd reccommend her books as well.  
  
And I'm rambling. Here's the next chapter.  
  
  
  
  
Majik was in a sore mood the next morning he awoke, and understandably so.  
  
He'd just been sleeping on the thin mattress, not too comfortable since the stupid thing sank where he sat down. But he'd been in a semi-content state of a dreamless slumber when he'd rolled over, placing his pale arm right into a sliver of sunlight.  
  
Contrary to popular belief, the sun didn't kill vampires-- not the ones more than fifty years, anyway. But to the younger ones it could leave a nasty burn wherever it hit if they weren't careful. Majik usually wore long-sleeved shorts and gloves to protect himself. He'd quickly learned this was odd in some places, where people seemed to think it was hot. Majik didn't have much of a sense for that; he was cold-blooded, like a snake, a lovely, enticing snake.  
  
So the result was that he had a quarter inch thick burn on the sensitive flesh under his right forearm. It looked nasty and stung like hell, but he'd had worse. Rather than complain too much, Majik kept sullenly silent.  
  
Today would begin a whole new routine for him and Cleao. Their master had moved them to a city called Silverdale on the wet, west side of Washington State. Speaking the English language wasn't a problem for either of them; Majik himself could speak Japanese, German, Mandarin, Spanish and Latin as well as English. It was a bright side to eternal life. Cleao could speak more than five times as much as him, which served just as well as Majik knowing the language himself since she could act as his translator.  
  
It wasn't like he needed one. If he really wanted to know what someone was saying he could probe their thoughts, but they__ did have an act to keep up. They would travel for a while, and every ten years or so certain members of the Silver Moon -- the small organization they were both in -- would have to lay low for nearly twice as long so few would suspect them.  
  
Majik rolled out of bed, glad to be in the welcome shades of his tiny room. From the sounds in the compact living room just outside his door (it was a small apartment) it sounded like Cleao was already awake. He danced around the sunlight warily, giving the curtains a slight push to make sure they were completely shut this time. Why did the sun have to rise on his side, anyway?  
  
Once he'd showered and dressed in faded denim jeans and a gray sweatshirt, Majik walked into the living room, combing the gold hair plastered to his head.  
  
"Good morning." The greeting was unnecessary, but then Cleao seemed compelled to doing unnecessary things at times. Majic gave her a quick nod in reply, running a hand through his hair to disturb the gelled appearance. There. Water dripped down his nose and he moved to wipe it away.  
  
The blonde girl stopped what she was doing, frowning in his direction. Her eyes fell on his right arm, just an inch or two above his wrist. "Majik..."  
  
He sighed. "It's just a little burn. It'll go away by tomorrow; no one will notice until then." So long as he kept his sweater on, anyway. And even if they did see, he could easily explain it away. Many people found "I burned myself with hot iron," or, "I was helping my sister make dinner and then the pan kinda slipped." Really, so long as they have a reasonable excuse, people would believe __anything.  
  
Cleao shook her head, opening the refrigerator in the connected kitchen. It was unnecessarily stocked, but she seemed to be packing something as she chose a fat red apple, inspecting it critically before deeming the fruit harmless and dropping it into a paper bag.  
  
"What's that for?" Majik asked, hoping he sounded offhanded. Great, now if he had to eat the stupid thing it'd be bruised. Majik despised mushy foods; they reminded him of the flesh he had to tear apart at least once a week.  
  
Cleao saw through it of course, but she said nothing about it. A tiny pressure from her thoughts told him she was aware of his suspicion, but she smiled innocently. "Lunch."  
  
"Ha, ha, very cute." Honestly, did the girl still think that, after all this time, he found her stupid jokes amusing?  
  
"Now, Majik," she said gently, trying not to sound stern. Majik realized that she *was* serious. "You have to keep up an image. Humans are weird; they think skipping a meal is strange. They automatically deem you sick if you do."  
  
"Like Master," Majik returned frostily.  
  
The other blonde sighed, diverting her eyes. "Yes," she murmured. "Exactly like Master..."  
  
He felt a tad bad for doing that to her, but let it drop. Snatching the half-packed brown bag from the counter top, Majik shoved his feet into his shoes. The time read nearly six-fifty AM; if they didn't get a move on, he'd be late. "C'mon..."  
  
A short while later Cleao was driving their temporary car down to the local high school. That was another great thing about being a prodigy; Majik could easily slip into one of their schools. And since he'd taken many of the same classes over and over again, it was easy to get by and not seem too suspicious. Of course, he was careful to make his fair share of mistakes. People got annoyingly suspicious otherwise.  
  
Majik was to enroll as a freshman at Klahowya Secondary school, whilst Cleao would be enrolling as a junior. It was the usual routine, though no doubt with time both of them would be bumped up a class -- in Majik's case, possibly two, since Cleao needed to stay with him -- in time.  
  
That was, if they had that much time here.  
  
Cleao finally found a place to park in the student parking lot. They walked in silence to the school, making their way to the registration office. It was easy to ignore the stares from other people since they were used to it. Cleao was pretty, and when she transformed she was twice as beautiful. Besides that, she had an energetic air about her that simply pulled people close, male or female.  
  
Majik possessed a different sort of attraction. He was pretty -- far too much to be male, he'd been told -- but he carried himself off with successful childlike innocence and warmth. Humans were so easily fooled by the powers of a vampire. Rather than find it amusing, Majik thought it sad.  
  
"Hello," Cleao greeted the secretary brightly. "My brother and I are here to pick up our class schedules-- Yeah, under Kaughten; Cleao and Kevin..."  
  
Majik tried not to glare at her. What a stupid name to pick... Though he usually could get people to call them by what he assured them was his nickname; Majik. Girls never seemed to have trouble going along with it. They practically flung thoughts to him, screaming inwardly how simply _sweet_ and _polite_ and __adorable he was.  
  
How he _hated_ that.  
  
"Kevin" smiled kindly, however, as he was handed his schedule. "Thank you very much," he said softly.  
  
The secretary blinked, squinting at him over her half-moon spectacles. "This is your brother?" she said with great air of surprise. "Please forgive me, I thought..."  
  
Majik smiled again, more forced than the last, but it was convincing enough. "It's quite all right, ma'am. I get that a lot." He gave a small, polite bow, unable to keep from being amused at her openly surprised and pleased thoughts. "Have a good day, miss."  
  
He shot Cleao a dark look, shooting a single thought at her._ 'I'm never entrusting you to pick my name again!'_  
  
She managed to keep her expression blank. Her reply was meek. __'I'm sorry; it's hard to keep thinking up new names, you know...'  
  
_'Out of over fifty-thousand plus names in the world?___ You're pathetic.' Just as quickly as he'd scowled, Majic was outwardly smiling. "I'll catch up with you after school, Cleao," he said cheerfully, spinning on the sole of his shoe and heading off to find his locker.  
  
This was going to be a long day; he could tell already.  
  
  
  
  
Majik was only too right, of course. After living on instincts for over twice as long as most people, he was becoming accustomed to what certain feelings meant.  
  
He'd been late to his first period looking unsuccessfully for his locker. He'd been able to cover up by explaining his "situation" as a transfer student, complete with innocent smiles and very subtle charm. Then he'd been directed to his seat, which just happened to be in a midst of girls.  
  
Majik _really_ disliked human girls.  
  
So he'd had to endure nearly an hour of whispers, dull lectures, and girls passing him notes. Majik had toyed with his pen, scribbling the occasional note to make it look like he was actually making some sort of effort. When the bell rang he was eager to escape, especially with the flood of hormonal thoughts that could only be that of freshmen trying to drown him and whatever sanity he had left.  
  
Majik clutched his schedule in his hand, glancing at the scrawled number at the top. _'My locker is T214... It has to be around here somewhere._' Pursing his lips, Majik swept his aqua-coloured eyes over the room, shifting his new textbook in his arm. Well, best to get to second period. After that, it seemed, there would be a fifteen-minute break in which he could really look for his locker.  
  
His second class was Geometry. He glanced at his schedule again, then began gently probing the nearest minds for where the classroom may be. He finally found it, but no sooner had he started toward it did the bell ring. Stifling a sigh, Majik headed for what he knew was going to be another class.  
  
It was, at least, a tad more interesting than the first class. If he hadn't encountered similar situations before, Majik may have enjoyed it. As it was, he simply found it normal.  
  
He walked in late, apologizing kindly to the teacher. His new teacher, Mr. Burns, was a balding middle-aged man, with the sideburns of his light brown hair graying and scowl lines creasing his forehead. Even without probing his mind, Majik could instantly sense he was a strict teacher.  
  
"Are you in the wrong class?"  
  
Perhaps it was an attempt to be kind, but Mr. Burns' voice came out clipped and hard. Smiling, Majik simply handed him his schedule, watching as those cold forest green eyes glared, scrutinizing, at the sheet. When he found nothing out of order, the teacher pointed out an available seat right at the front of the room. Not at all disturbed by this, Majik obediently took his seat.  
  
"Well... Kevin Kaughten, is it?" Mr. Burns gave him a nasty smile. "Let's see if you really belong in this class, shall we?" Majik felt his face warm, though it was more out of anger than embarrassment. No one seemed to be able to tell the difference with him, though. Flushing with such a pretty, innocent face almost automatically made you embarrassed. "We're already reviewing for the next year. Find me the sin of thirty-five-- __without a calculator," he added.  
  
"Point five-seven-three, sir," Majik replied without missing a beat.  
  
If he hadn't been living for more than two centuries, Majik would have been disturbed by the sneer that curled his teacher's lips. "Try the cosin of seventeen."  
  
"Point nine-five-six, sir."  
  
At first Majik thought his new teacher was going to explode, but what came forth was a harsh bark of laughter. "Well," Mr. Burns said, pinning the boy's eyes with his own. "It seems we actually have an intelligent mind in this class. I expect great things from __you, Mr. Kaughten."  
  
And then class resumed its normal schedule.  
  
Majik spent the whole of class staring ahead, bored out of his mind. Not a single person's thoughts in this room felt like that of a Demon's. He was accustomed to human thought process, and while Demons could cleverly hide theirs, he was still too used to being surrounded by more childish minds. The oddest mind was Mr. Burns', but he was odd anyway, so Majik could easily dismiss him.  
  
How hard this mission was! It had been going on for centuries as far as Majik knew, way before he'd been transformed, or even born for that matter. But this was a particular Demon he and Cleao were after-- A Demon by the name of Killiranshelo Finrandi.  
  
Majik didn't know how they were supposed to subdue him; he was far more powerful than even him. Cleao was strong, but because of Majik's quick learning, he was stronger. He wasn't a prodigy for nothing, after all.  
  
He was looking for a quick escape by the time the bell rang, but he found himself cornered by several students, unable to get to the door unless he wanted to drop his act. Majik was forced to suffer the onslaught of frantic questions from girls, and several pleas from both sexes for him to tutor them. It was a hellish five minutes before he finally managed to squeeze through them, dodging and apologizing profusely, giving the excuse that he needed to find his locker before anything else.  
  
"Oh! I'm sure we can point it out!" one red-haired girl said eagerly, grabbing his hand.  
  
Majik was instantly bombarded by her excited emotions, forcing his own heartbeat to speed up in synch with hers, but he managed to keep a clear head as he grasped her hand back, giving his trademark smile. "Thank you, but I believe I can handle this on my own. I don't wish to trouble you any."  
  
His classmate gave a small squeak, her brown eyes narrowing down at his hand as she blushed furiously. Majik released her, sidestepping quickly and slipping with catlike grace down the hallway and away from the giggling girls. It was another drawback to being so pretty; he attracted unwanted attention. So much for laying low.  
  
Probing surrounding people's thoughts, Majik quickly discovered that all freshmen had the same group of lockers-- Right back where he'd come from. He grimaced inwardly; it was time to play the lost boy again. With feigned uncertainly, he headed straight for the seniors' corridors. If he was lucky, he'd bump into Cleao-- extremely lucky, since she was a junior and all.  
  
He didn't find Cleao, but he did walk straight into another senior. This had seriously been unintentional on his part; he'd been so wrapped up in sensing for the familiar vampire's thought waves that he'd been completely blinded.  
  
"Ahh--!" It didn't knock him down, but Majik did have to take a few steps back before he could steady himself. Tightening his hand around his Geometry and English books, the blonde cast his turquoise eyes downward a moment before glancing up, a cleverly disguised false apology in his eyes. "Excuse me..."  
  
"Clumsy," the senior retorted, rubbing his chest where Majik had bumped his nose into him. His eyes were dark and slanted, very catlike as he surveyed the new freshmen. "This is the seniors' hall, girl."  
  
Majik hesitated, tensing to hold himself back from kicking the taller youth. The force may have broken his kneecaps. "Um... That is..." He coloured, again more from anger than real embarrassment. "I'm lost."  
  
The senior smirked, mahogany eyes perusing Majik's face. "What grade are you in?"  
_  
'Make a pass at me, will you?'_ Majik thought angrily, forcing a disarming smile. "Ninth." Two could play at the Mind Game.  
  
The teen moved and slung an arm around Majik's shoulder, gently steering him out of the seniors' hallway. "I'll take you there, then, if you don't mind?" Majik shook his head, still smiling. "You're new, eh?"  
  
"Do you know my sister?" Majik inquired. "She's new as well... Cleao Kaughten?"  
  
The seemingly older teen snapped his fingers, positively grinning. "That curly-haired chick! Yeah, she was in my first period. I see now," he added, eyes raking Majik again. "You're both very attractive... Yeah, I can see a vague resemblance now. What's your name?"  
  
Hell, was this guy talkative! Majik felt an odd spark of curiosity light. He'd met a lot of guys like this, but this one wasn't entirely sleazy like the rest. His compliments were honest, at least, and not just trying to gain the boy's trust. Surprisingly, he found that he _liked_ that, even if the first thing that had drawn the senior to him had been his looks.  
  
"Kevin."  
  
The senior didn't falter in his step, still grinning. Either Kevin was also a girl's name, or he was a bisexual. With the faintest of touches to his mind, Majik found it to be the former. How strange. Americans were _strange_.  
  
"There we are," said the senior, dropping his hand from Majik's shoulder. "Kevin, eh? Maybe I'll see you around sometime. What's your locker number?"  
  
Majik tipped his head to the side, giving the sienna-eyed teen an almost feral smirk. "Before you get any ideas, I'm a __guy." Now he got a reaction; the senior blinked, clearly taken aback by this concept. Pleased at this accomplishment, though he couldn't begin to say why, Majik continued smoothly. "Aside from that, I wouldn't be attracted to you, anyway. You're a bit of a pig. Thank you for the compliments, but __chick is __awfully derogatory. I'd appreciate it if you refrained from hitting on my sister as well. Have a nice day!" he chirped all in one breath, spinning on his heel and disappearing into the flood of freshmen students.  
  
  
  
  
It wasn't until lunch that Majik finally found Cleao. Relieved, he made his way over to her, falling rather ungracefully into a seat at the same table. She blinked at him, crystalline eyes slightly amused. "Bad day?"  
  
"Bad day? No, not at all," Majik retorted, sarcasm laced into his words as delicate as a spider's web. She didn't deserve it, and he knew it, but the lack of any information or leads was agitating him. Not to mention... "I've been hit on by both genders today. And oh, no, it's not just the freshmen. Six sophomores, probably ten juniors, and _three_ seniors! Seven of them were male! Five of them _straight_ males! And the next person to ask for my locker or phone number is __going to get an 'accidental' seizure!"  
  
Luckily, no one else seemed interested in Majik's outburst. His ranting went unnoticed, and Cleao listened with practiced patience, smiling sweetly as he finished. "Do you feel better now?"  
  
Majik sighed, sinking back into his chair. "A bit," he admitted, adding mentally, '_But I found nothing. The best I got was an eccentric teacher. What did you find?'_  
  
_'I did worse than you,'_ she replied silently. _'No leads at all, not a single one. I felt a vague presence in my first period, but I couldn't trace it to a single mind. It was almost as if whoever it was, was purposefully trying to confuse me.'_  
  
Majik opened the paper bag he'd been carrying, hefting the round apple in his hand. '_Well, that's something, actually,'_ he reminded her, biting into the too-sweet fruit. _'Remember, Demons can have and do have that ability, to be able to confuse mind-readers. You may have a better lead than me. Keep a close eye out in that class, will you?'_  
  
_'No problem.'_  
  
Majik made a face, already sick of chewing on the half-eaten apple. He tossed it into the disposable bag, trying to ignore the wild thoughts being flung both his and Cleao's way. Some of them were disgusting anyway. Honestly, didn't these people know how to control their hormones?! And-- Oh, God, he didn't want to picture that random girl doing _that_ to him!  
  
"I'm going to the library," he said abruptly, getting to his feet.  
  
"Research?" asked Cleao mildly.  
  
"No. Escape." Flinging the useless bag into the trash, Majik faded into a small crowd of people, disappearing before Cleao could even blink.  
  
  
  
  
The rush of cool air soothed his senses, as well as the relief of few people. Majik always found himself at ease in such surroundings-- few people with a quiet peacefulness.  
  
He meandered over to the fiction side, lazily scanning the shelves for anything even mildly of interest. There were few books he'd never read before, but it certainly couldn't hurt to look. And anyway, this was the only side of the library with few windows. He wasn't fond of cooking before anyone's eyes.  
  
Really, he wasn't fond of being burned at all.  
  
Some authors he skipped over completely, V.C. Andrews being one of them. Really, she was a decent writer, but he found the stories far too dramatic for his tastes. There was enough darkness in his life, and this woman touched on it so closely it pained him to read her words. Despite his sarcastic and cold nature -- something acquired over the immortal years of a vampire and not at all a trace from his true childhood -- Majik preferred lighter fiction.  
  
There were a few vampire stories, but hardly any of them were of great interest. _The Silver Kiss _was a decent story, nicely touching up on some areas of being a true vampire, but Majik had never heard of an undead being turning himself into mist. Honestly, the fantasies of some people were so far-fetched they were amusing. And though L.J. Smith's __Night World series was more to his liking in the way she had a more accurate portrayal of vampires, her words were too simple and easy to understand. Only the last four books were supposed to be any good, and Majik had yet to find the fourth.  
  
Oh, well. Still surveying the shelves, Majik only dimly noted that three new people had entered his sacred room of privacy.  
  
He got a dim flash of someone -- most likely a guy -- seeing him as some stupidly innocent girl, then another that banished that idea completely by pointing out that, though exceptionally pretty, Majik was a male.  
  
The blonde paused, hand hovering over something entitled _Vanitas___: Escape from Vampire Junction. That mind wave was familiar... Ah, yes. A bare glance over his shoulder told him it was, indeed, the senior he'd run into earlier.  
  
_'I'm surprised he knew this school had a library,'_ he thought dryly, taking the book off the shelf and thumbing through it. He was instantly distracted by the words, raising an eyebrow at the crude language. _'This isn't disturbing at all,'_ was the next sarcastic thought to pass.  
  
"What have you got there, Kevin?"  
  
The pleasantly nasal voice didn't come as a surprise, but Majik feigned a startled jump. He turned to face the amber-eyed senior, who was smirking at him from beneath tousled hair.  
  
"Ah... Hello," Majik said slowly, pretending to get over his initial "shock."  
  
Without waiting for an answer, the senior snatched it from his hands, reading the back of it. "_Vanitas_, huh?" he asked, his smirk broadening. "It's awfully mature for someone your age, isn't it?"  
  
Oh, if only he knew the irony of that simple remark! Rather than retort as he might have to most other guys, Majik simply smiled and easily plucked it from the seniors' hands. "I don't know what you mean," he said loftily. "I just wanted something to entertain myself with."  
  
"Entertainment? You read for fun, then?"  
  
Majik's dark golden eyebrows shot up. "Don't you?" he inquired innocently.  
  
The seniors' expression changed momentarily. Majik got a faint thought; yes, he did enjoy it, but he didn't tell anyone. Any sort of weakness was a crime to him. "No," he snapped, glancing away as he rubbed the back of his neck in obvious discomfort. "I'm just here to pick up a book for my English class. They're _making_ us read, so I'd better grab something thick so they think I'm actually doing something."  
  
Majik sighed. "Say what you want to your friends, but I find nothing wrong with enjoying a good story." He slid the book back into place, glancing at the sienna-eyed teen sideways. "But you're probably right," he added thoughtfully. "That sort of story, it's not for me." Majik made sure to give him a small wave before he walked off, knowing he'd left something for the young man to chew on.  
  
Before he could escape to his next class, however, Majik found his elbow caught in a strong grip. The senior leaned close, murmuring something quickly into his ear before releasing him and striding off. The aqua-eyed vampire stared after him, pleasantly surprised.  
  
_"You can call me Orphen, all right?"_  
  
Shaking his head, Majik slung his backpack over his shoulder before wandering off to his new Biology class.  
  
  
  
  
The chipper voice of Cleao's overly-cheerful history teacher went on like a buzzing noise in the back of her mind. She dimly wondered if she could swat the annoying fly, so to speak.  
  
She chewed on the end of her pen, copying their notes down in neat cursive. She knew this particular lesson better than most -- she'd taken the same classes at least ten times, after all, not to mention she'd __lived several of them! -- but the notes were obligatory for a grade.  
  
She'd never liked school, and posing as a human didn't make her like it any better.  
  
When the class got a chance to pause in the actual note-taking, their teacher fluttering around a world map like a hummingbird, Cleao took the time to cautiously dance around the minds of her classmates.  
  
The annoying cheerleader snapping gum in the back of her class was a definite no, as was the supposedly amazingly smart boy to her left. She'd have to be careful with him in three of her class; people expected him to be the best, and it would look suspicious if she surpassed him.  
  
Her thought tendrils covered the students like a blanket, and none of them took notice of it. Cleao was simply that good at poking at other people's thoughts. Two people caught her attention; one was a black-haired girl that had been in her first period class, and another was very familiar somehow, belonging to a petite brunette female with her hair in luxurious, very natural waves.  
  
However the vibes Cleao got from her weren't that of a Demon's at all. No, this girl was a _witch_, and she was looking directly into Cleao's eyes.  
  
After a long moment the girl smiled, carefully slipping a thought in the curly-haired female's general direction. __'Vampire?' Cleao barely nodded, but the girl caught it. _'From the Silver Moon?'_Another nod. _'Wonderful! Excellent... Is your partner with you?'_ When Cleao had confirmed this, the brunette sent one last thought -- _'Please get him or her and meet me outside the front office after school,' _-- before blocking herself off. Witches were good at that.  
  
Cleao spent the rest of that period and the next anxiously waiting for school to be over. The witch hadn't given her name, and Cleao had always had an insatiable catlike curiosity. She bounced her leg as her ice blue eyes flickered toward the clock, trying not to yawn too widely.  
  
_'Wonder what Majik's up to?'_ she thought absently, reaching out mentally. She almost instantly recoiled when she reached him; he was _not_ in a pleasant mood.  
  
Sighing, the blonde female stretched back, lazily watching her Trigonometry teacher ramble on about equations on the board. Honestly, the student role got really old really fast. She'd have to put in a request for some sort of sales clerk or something next time; at least they got to see new people each day.  
  
Cleao checked the time again, groaning silently. Sometimes it really sucked to be immortal. When she was bored time seemed to drag by even slower than usual, and looking back she found that she'd had a lot of those moments. __God, she wished she had some sort of control over time like a few of the more powerful mages and sorcerers. She envied their powers at times like this, really.  
  
Only two o'clock... God, it was a long day.  
  
  
  
  
He should have _known_ it would be a mistake to sign up for Chorus as an elective!  
  
Majik fumed as he stormed out of the classroom, furious that he'd been that stupid to let Cleao advise him in what classes to take. He __hated close contact, he didn't _like_ being touched without permission, and he _especially_ didn't like it when older women did it!  
  
He'd been on time to the class, but he still hadn't gone unnoticed by the girls. Apparently they weren't too bright, but they had a sharp eye for anything even remotely male. His teacher, Ms. Shelby, had had him come to the front of the class and introduce himself. Majik did so, painstakingly, introducing himself as Kevin Kaughten, stating his false age and few interests he was able to reveal, and then took a seat near the back.  
  
Ms. Shelby didn't seem to want to let him go that easily. After being goggled at by a few girls -- and Majik was __certain the boy beside him had intentionally touched his knee -- Majik had, once again, been asked to come to the front of the room. With a forced smile, he'd complied, even after he'd been asked to sing a few notes.  
  
He should have botched it on purpose. He really should have.  
  
Ms. Shelby had been so impressed she'd had him sing a few simple tunes as well. Majik hated the way she had put her hand on his shoulder, and the thoughts lurking beneath her cheerful exterior had been beyond disturbing. Who said only the male teachers wanted to molest their students? Majik was __disturbed by this wavy-haired woman.  
  
After that he'd managed to avoid being called on for most of the class period, but near the end Ms. Shelby had requested to speak to him alone after class; she wanted to discuss where they were at in the class, she said. Majik had known better; she was easy to read, and there was no doubt there wasn't a trace of Demon blood in her veins, but he had an innocent, oblivious image to keep up. He went.  
  
It had been horrible. She'd practically forced him to sit in the chair across from herself, talking rapidly about the upcoming events and such. Majik had nodded politely, only half listening, and then she'd _touched_ him. Not just on the shoulder, but then several pats to his knee, and there was __no mistaking her hand sliding a bit above to his thigh.  
  
He shouldn't have slapped her away like that, but he'd reached the end of his patience. Majik had slapped her hand away, snapping for her not to touch him. When she'd scolded him for hitting a teacher, he'd given himself away by shoving her roughly into the wall and biting her.  
  
Only after he'd drained her of a decent amount of blood did he realize what he was doing. Horrified at himself, Majik had jerked back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand frantically. His thoughts had raced wildly, wondering what he should do, before he remembered that it would be all right. Gathering his sanity, Majik had taken a deep breath to calm himself down.  
  
It had been a simple process of wiping the blood from her throat and wiping her memory of the incident clean. She'd have a few minutes' gap there, but she'd been unconscious for part of the time. It wouldn't be a severe problem.  
  
Even still, Majik was furious with both Ms. Shelby and himself. How dare she touch him? And how could he have lost his temper like that? His master had warned him several times that it was __dangerous to do that.  
  
He sighed, running a hand through his silken hair, disheveling it. Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. At least he wouldn't have to feed for at least three or four days. He made his way to the front of the school, licking traces of blood off his teeth just to be sure no one would notice.  
  
He'd felt Cleao's presence, but he hadn't taken notice of the other mind with her until his aqua-coloured eyes spotted them. He narrowed his eyes momentarily, but fixed his expression into a neutral stare as he made his way over.  
  
Cleao smiled at him. "Hello. Bad day?"  
  
"It got worse," Majik said quietly, glancing toward the petite brunette beside her. She wasn't human, it seemed, but then...  
  
Cleao retained her smile. "Majik, this is Fiena. She's a witch, and she may know some things about the Demons."  
  
A witch, huh? Majik's demeanor changed entirely; he grew sincerely eager, staring hard at the wide-eyed girl. "You know something we don't?"  
  
Fiena smiled kindly. She put up no disguises like Majik; she seemed honestly sweet and gentle. "It depends on what you know. I'm sure after a little talk, we can both reveal information. May we?"  
  
It would certainly help if she _did_ happen to have any extra information. Majik nodded without hesitation; it wasn't that he trusted easily, it was more that he was growing desperate and needed to grab whatever chances he could at finding the Demon Killiranshelo. It was __hard to find a Demon; anyone that had seen their true form rarely lived to tell the tale, and those that had were long dead by now. Most of them had been sorcerers, and unlike vampires, sorcerers were __not immortal.  
  
"Cleao can drive us to a neutral ground," Majik said, pinning Fiena's stare with his own, a warning gleaming in his own rounded eyes. "No witch territory, no vampire weaknesses... How about it? Simple human grounds?"  
  
"Of course," she accepted graciously. "I understand your concern of attack, sir."  
  
"Majik," he said brusquely as they walked to the student parking lot.  
  
She smiled again. "Then you may call me Fiena."_


	3. Chapter Two

**:: Illusions ::**  
  
_~Sorcerous Stabber Orphen~_  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Sorcerous Stabber Orphen or any of the characters. Rights go to Akita Sadanobu and ADVision.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairings: Erris+Majik, possible Cleao+Majik and possible Fiena+Majik  
  
Warnings: language, angst, strangeness  
  
Notes: I wrote the last half listening to "Wake Me Up Inside" by Evanescence... Y'know, from the soundtrack for _Daredevil_? That is an awesome movie-- For the amazing music score if nothing else. Go watch it. Now. I command you!  
  
Heh, that aside, this is getting a bit weirder than I originally planned. Of course, when I originally planned this, I was still working on _Velvet Flames_, and obviously my plots were pretty weak then. So this has a... Slightly more complicated one than I originally intended. That, and I just love to write about insanity and bloodshed and this is a good excuse to do so. ^^;  
  
Shae's gonna kill me for this... I'm supposed to be writing smut... .; Eep.  
  
  


  
  
Majik fixed a cap over his head, the better to hide himself from the sun. He knew he looked strange, wearing pale jeans, a sweatshirt, black gloves and a blue baseball cap, but he really didn't care. He was more concerned with protecting himself than anything else. Fiena made no comment, and Cleao was too used to it to point it out.  
  
The sun breaking out from beneath the clouds wasn't a good sign, though. Cleao glanced at Majik, then to Fiena. "Perhaps later would be a better time to meet," she said. "Majik's still a young vampire."  
  
They hadn't even reached the car yet, and already the set-up had been canceled. Majik cursed both the sun and his young vampiric age.  
  
"I understand," Fiena said softly, smiling. "Where shall I meet you two, then?"  
  
Cleao scribbled down an address on a sheet of paper while Majik climbed into the car, flinching as the sun caught the side of his face briefly. It wouldn't burn, but it would be red for a little while. Damn it!  
  
As they drove away from the school, Majik pulled down the inner visor to shield his face from the sun. "Let's hurry home," he said grimly. "I need ice for my arm; it stings like a bitch..."  
  
Cleao nodded, twiddling the steering wheel as they slowly pulled out of the student driver's traffic. Not many seemed to live in apartments around here, and Majik was grateful for that. All the more privacy for him.  
  
Perhaps it would be more accurate to call a vampire's psychic abilities empathy rather than telepathy, at least in Majik's case. He didn't just sense thoughts; he was easily bombarded with emotions. Fortunately, he could turn this off if he tried, but turning it off also meant lowering his senses-- thus lowering the chances of finding Killiranshelo.  
  
Personally, Majik didn't see what the big deal of catching this particular Demon was. Killiranshelo wasn't openly power-hungry, and no one had heard from him in over a century. So why the big fuss, he wondered?  
  
Because they were running out of Demons to hunt. That was what Azalea had told him, anyway. The Silver Moon was growing bored of hunting small prey, so they were after Killiranshelo, though he'd been laying awfully low for so long. It was pointless, and very likely only a reason for their master to keep them as long as he could to do his bidding.  
  
Majik scowled, glaring out the window where the sun was obviously shining so brightly. He didn't dare move until Cleao had pulled into the parking garage.  
  
"Do you have homework?" she asked.  
  
"Who cares?" he snapped, stalking away, keys in hand. Honestly, she was worse than a mother, and she was beginning to overstep her boundaries.  
  
"Majik, we can't look like bad students," Cleao reminded him, following at a brisk pace. "Humans watch failing students just as close as they do the smarter ones. We have to have a medium."  
  
He whirled to glare at her, his right arm throbbing from the morning's burn, his cheek stinging with a fresh though lighter burn, still caught in a torrent of his earlier frustration. "I don't _care_ right now, Cleao! Just lay off, okay?!" Her expression didn't change; she seemed to be used to such verbal treatment.  
  
Majik glared at her for a long moment, finally sighing. "Look... I'm going to go to sleep. I'm not hungry tonight; don't bother bringing anything back."  
  
Unlike Majik, Cleao went hunting nightly, minus a few important occasions. She nodded slowly, still not saying anything as he left her behind. Majik felt a little bad for doing that, but sometimes she really did deserve to be shut up.  
  
The blonde boy shut himself in his room, knowing Cleao would respect his privacy if he locked the door. He threw himself on the bed without worry; the sun always set on the other side of the apartment. After a short pause he stood, making sure not a crack was open this time. One could never be too careful.  
  
Fiena... A witch. He was intrigued, but not by her. She had dangled information in front of his nose like a child teasing a puppy with rich meat, and then it had been snatched away only seconds later by the annoyingly bitter parent.  
  
Majik vaguely wondered who her partner was. Not a witch, most likely. Vampires were usually the only ones that paired off with their own kind, and that was because one of them owned the other. Not quite in the sense his master owned them, but more of a life-binding thing. Until one of them died or was freed by their owner, they were forced to be with the one they lived to serve.  
  
Which was why he and Cleao were partners.  
  
And really, it wasn't that he had no _respect_ for Cleao; that wasn't it as all. But he'd like to see anyone else be her partner for more than one hundred years.  
  
Majik sighed heavily, tugging at the sleeve of his sweater so he could stare at the burn. It wasn't fading as quickly as usual, probably because he had less blood flowing through his veins than most vampires. Never mind he'd just fed, he thought angrily.  
  
But there it was, glaring down at him like it was angry. Majik scoffed; now he was thinking ridiculous things.  
  
He traced the burn, flinching at the pain. Something about it was almost symbolic, actually. The shape was a bit unusual, tapering off to a point at the end. But it was still somehow a bit jagged, like little pinpricks were sticking out... Or splinters of a stake.  
  
Majik didn't know why he was feeling so upset all of a sudden. The stress of everything was finally getting to him, he supposed. He kept replaying the scene with Ms. Shelby, remembering how her hair had felt as he'd grabbed it, shoving it to the side before he'd sank his teeth into her soft throat, blood spilling down her neck and over his lips, sweet as copper...  
  
He shuddered, stripping himself of the sweater. He hated being a vampire; he really did. He tried to make the best of it, but he still _hated it. Or perhaps not hated, sometimes there were benefits to eternal life... But one did tend to grow weary of it. He'd already lived more than two times the normal life-span of a human being.  
  
Majik didn't know how long he lay there, but when a glance at the clock reading eight-thirty PM, he decided it was time to go meet Fiena.  
  
And if she didn't have something useful, Majik was going to strangle her by the pretty throat himself.  
  
  
_

  
  
The rave Cleao took him to was... enormous, in a word. In his two hundred plus years, Majik had only been to one or two of the illegal parties, but this was a bit different from the others. Smoke was drifting around the warehouse, and not all of it was tobacco. Someone had set up a system that poured billowing white smoke into his sensitive eyes.  
  
Majik waved it aside, searching both physically and mentally for the curly-haired witch. It was but five minutes when he finally singled her out, tapping Cleao's arm to convey the silent message.  
  
She wasn't alone, which didn't surprise Majik too much. With her was a girl that was around her size, if not an inch or two taller. She was very different from Fiena, with bright orange hair and glassy blue eyes. Majik could easily pinpoint her as a shapeshifter.  
  
Fiena smiled kindly. "I'm glad you came."  
  
"I'll be glad if I get anything useful," Majik replied, easily sliding into a seat beside her. He glanced over at the orange-haired girl, who was watching him with leech-like interest. "You know Cleao, I presume, and this is...?"  
  
"Ah. This is my partner, Erris," Fiena answered, gesturing between the two. "Erris, this is Majik... You know, one of the top assigned to kill Killiranshelo?"  
  
"Nice to meet you," Erris said, flashing slightly sharpened white teeth.  
  
"Pleasure," Majik remarked dryly before turning to Fiena, blocking the shapeshifter from his mind for the moment. "Where shall we start?"  
  
"Good question," said Fiena, resting her chin on her slim hands. Her fingernails were tapered off, painted a pale pink to match the flowing, priestess-style dress she wore. Around her neck were traditional witch beads, woven with enchantments and protective spells. On simple observation, Majik noted the tattoo of a wolf's head nestled comfortably -- probably purposefully -- between the swell of her breasts. She was of Dragon descent, judging from the symbol. Their god was of wolven shape, but they called him a dragon.  
  
Well, witches were strange. Majik once again dismissed the useless information as Fiena began to speak again, slowly, very thoughtful.  
  
"Well, I suppose we could start with what I know. I trust you won't skip out." She flashed him another sincere smile. "Let's see, where to begin..."  
  
Ignoring the nudging of Erris' foot beneath the table -- was it her animal form's mating season or something? -- Majik folded his arms on the table, leaning comfortably on it as he listened with rapt attention.  
  
"Well, as you know, Demons are far more powerful than the rest of us. But long ago they _were_ put to sleep by a great sorcerer whose name has been long forgotten. It's unfortunate, really... He was a brave soul to do such a noble deed." Majik politely kept silent as she bowed her head in deepest regret. Another thing about the Dragon clan was that they tended to be sensitive toward any form of life-- even the undead life of vampires. They believed it to be a sacred thing, and that even vampires had their place in life.  
  
"Several centuries ago, when Christ walked the earth, there were swarms of Demons. He purged many of them, but after being crucified, dying, rising again, and leaving us all, we were once again left defenseless. That is where the Dragon clan came in, mostly as shamans and healers. Those are our special powers after all-- gifts of healing.  
  
"We were shunned by Christ's followers anyway, kicked out of villages and towns, beat to death, burned, until we finally retreated... And the Demons only grew more powerful. Finally, the nameless sorcerer appeared, putting them all to sleep. And to wake them up, a sorcerer just as powerful would have to come along... Which is what happened, of course."  
  
Majik had known most of this, but the whole thing with God had been left out, possibly because of the vampires' old (and false) fear of being burned by the cross for being unholy. Only burning and staking could kill a vampire, after all, and the sun could harm a younger one, but the sign of the cross did nothing. Some vampires _did believe in God, after all, and those that did were supposedly saved.  
  
Ever since being turned into a bastard of hell, Majik had lost any faith he'd had in any gods.  
  
"Since then Demons have grown more powerful. Most were smart enough to stay hidden, gathering knowledge and power through human guises. The few that didn't were killed, naturally, since they weren't nearly as strong." She must have noticed the bored expression on Majik's face, for she smoothly changed tactics. "What many people __don't know, however, is that over the years the Demons were gaining a leader. They didn't __know this of course, but they were gaining one nevertheless."  
  
"The leader no one knows about," Majik said softly, aqua eyes half lidded as he spoke. His pupils had faded into the swirl of colour, making him seem very much like a Demon himself. "But what does this have to do with Killiranshelo?"  
  
"He's the second hand to the leader," Fiena replied, smiling contentedly at Majik's surprise. "We knew he was powerful, yes, but Second Hand?"  
  
Majik said nothing, silently absorbing this new information. Second Hand... That was equivalent to the leader himself. The only difference was, generally the Second Hand didn't __want to be leader, so he just did the dirty work for him. It was another concept Majik couldn't understand, but it was fascinating anyway.  
  
"I see," he murmured, a strange smile on his pale lips. "Is that all?"  
  
"It isn't enough?"  
  
Majik's eyes slid over to Cleao, who was also listening in quiescence. Should anything slip by him, she would certainly catch it. "It's a decent amount, but I feel you're hiding more."  
  
The brunette shifted in her seat, smoothing wavy tresses from her face. Fiena was certainly an attractive witch; not only did she have a complimentary figure, her brown eyes had depth, something some humans didn't, and the loose waves were completely natural. The only thing Majik could find at fault -- physically -- was her wide forehead.  
  
"You're right," she agreed. "Though I was hoping to get a bit from you before I moved on. Well, then. This doesn't directly pertain to Killiranshelo, but I think you may find it interesting anyway."  
  
The petting of Erris' foot on his leg was getting annoying. Majik gave her a sharp kick, shooting her a warning glare that no one would mistake for kindness. "Go on."  
  
Fiena didn't look her partner's way. "You do know that Master Childman and Flameheart have been competing for the next role as Elder, right?"  
  
Majik nodded. "Even new recruits know this by the second day."  
  
"Yes. You'll have to forgive me for saying this, but I have reasonable doubt toward Flameheart's true... Ah... Abilities."  
  
Majik guessed he was supposed to be angry, but he didn't really care for his own master anyway. He'd always wanted to be one of Childman's children; they were generally treated better. Only Azalea had direct contact with him and with permission, since they __were lovers.  
  
"And?" he asked, giving her a crooked, wry smile. "You believe my master is somehow cheating, don't you?"  
  
"I believe Flameheart has direct connections with the Demons and is using them to get what he wants," said Fiena delicately.  
  
This _was_ interesting. Flameheart was sinister; Majik had no doubts that he would go to any lengths to gain something over Childman. He didn't hold any liking toward his master, so he took no offense to Fiena's information. In fact, he could actually picture the red-eyed sorcerer sitting there, conversing pleasantly with a Demon to gain power in his own section.  
  
Was this why the same Demons occasionally seemed to escape?  
  
"Hmm," he murmured. "That's interesting to know. Thank you."  
  
Fiena smiled, obviously relieved. Majik gave her a tiny smile back, though he was still distracted. Was it just him, or did something not quite feel right at this particular rave? Of course, all raves were illegal, but there was something that was nagging at the back of his mind. Something that demanded to be known...  
  
He couldn't place it. Brushing dust gold strands from his eyes, Majik leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand. "Well," he drawled, "I'm not sure I have any valid information for you, but I'll do my best." And he proceeded to tell her about their mission; when they had been assigned it, how much they'd been told, who had been dispatched, and so on.  
  
Fiena interrupted him as he was ticking off the pairs. "Hartia and Rai? Rai the human telepath?"  
  
Majik raised an eyebrow. "Yes."  
  
Satisfied, she leaned back. "I haven't seen him in ages. It's nice to know he's doing well."  
  
_'I didn't **say that,'**_ thought Majik, but he said nothing. In truth, he wasn't quite sure himself. Only Cleao's welfare was made aware to him, and his concern for others in the Silver Moon could only seem to reach Azalea and perhaps Hartia. But aside from them, there was no one.  
  
It was a good hour or so before he nearly drained all the information he had out of him. There were some things he kept back, naturally, things that Flameheart had warned him to tell __no one, especially not another organization. There were chances a Demon could find out, after all.  
  
"Fantastic," said Fiena, smiling softly. "Thank you, Majik. You've given me exactly what I wanted."  
  
_

The blonde raised an eyebrow, mentally shooting Cleao an exasperated look. "Glad to help."  
  
"Not information on Killiranshelo," said Fiena. Majik threw her a sharp look, clearly demanding to know what she had been after. Either revealing it wasn't a problem, or Fiena simply -- probably stupidly -- trusted him. She flashed her teeth in another smile before answering his silent question. "The things you've told me, the assignments you've had, the dates, the people involved... It only makes me even more certain that Flameheart is behind much of it. Much of it coincides-- It all falls into place."  
  
Majik shook his head. He didn't quite understand what she meant by that, and he didn't have any doubts that Flameheart _would_ do it if he could... But how could he? Compared to the Greater Sorcerers, he was weak, and so was Childman.  
  
It didn't make any sense.  
  
In any case, it wasn't any of his business. Majik shook his head again, this time in dismissal. "Whatever. Do what you have to; our only concern is Killiranshelo. Right, Cleao?"  
  
His partner bit her lip, and from the gentle undercurrent of her thoughts, Majik could very well guess that she objected. "Well, yes, but what if--"  
  
"What Master Flameheart does is none of our business," snapped Majik, effectively silencing her. Turning back to Fiena, he said in a clipped voice that seemed vastly out of place given his innocent appearance, "Thank you for the information, but perhaps it'll be best if we go our own ways from here on out."  
  
Fiena raised a hand, grasping the arm Majik hadn't noticed slipping toward him. He raised an eyebrow at Erris, who simply blinked back in response. "Erris is a fox," said Fiena, as though it explained everything.  
  
To Majik, however, it did. "I see."  
  
The brunette closed her eyes in a mouthless smile. "Thank you for your time. See you tomorrow, Cleao."  
  
"Goodbye," Cleao said quietly, seeming rather despaired as Majik stalked out of the rave. She gave the witch one last wave, receiving a sympathetic gesture in return.  
  
If the music hadn't been throbbing in their ears, Fiena and Erris would have been sitting in complete silence for nearly ten minutes. Finally, Fiena released her partner's arm and glanced at her. "I told you not to come."  
  
Erris sighed. "I'll be fine in a couple days. You should have known better not to mention anything about a cute guy."  
  
Brown eyes pinned slightly dazed blue. "I'm not your caretaker," said Fiena in a surprisingly firm tone. A lock of wavy hair trailed down the side of her face and she quickly tucked it behind her ear. Finally, the orange-haired girl lowered her eyes, sighing. Beneath the table, in her lap, she was clenching her slim hands together. The odd thing was, they were sort of orange in colour, even a little fuzzy.  
  
Fiena glanced down, standing quickly and gesturing for Erris to come. She draped her coat around the young shapeshifter's shoulders so that it covered her hands, leading her out the door with a hand on her back.  
  
"Thanks," mumbled Erris, drawing the coat tighter around herself in the chilly night air.  
  
Fiena looked up in time to see Cleao's car driving off, the tail lights flicking on to blind her. She shielded her eyes, smiling slightly at the image of Majik staring out his window, not seeing them, lost in his own thoughts, before they disappeared into the street. Despite his coldness, she believed there was some sort of gentleness inside of him; that was what the Dragon clan had been brought up to believe, anyway. And she was happy in the belief of a deep set good in all people, even Flameheart.  
  
The only difference was, Flameheart was beyond redemption. Majik wasn't.  
  
She sighed, tugging on the sleeve of her coat to get Erris to follow her. _'Poor Cleao.__ I hope he gives her a break; if he keeps pushing the way he does, she may actually break the binding pact just to get away from him.'_  
  
Whether that was worse for Majik or Cleao, she still wasn't sure.  
  
  


  
  
Majik had been sure she wouldn't say anything since the ride home had been completely silent. He'd been grateful; it gave him time to sort out everything, to ponder over little details. It had been a while since he'd thought about those many years ago that were so important to the mission itself. A refresh of memory was nice.  
  
So it was very dark and Majik was very awake when Cleao walked into the tiny living room, sitting herself down on the plush chair. At first her gaze had been drawn to the television, which was on the news, but when she finally looked over at the younger vampire she realized he wasn't watching it.  
  
Majik seemed deeply engrossed in a thick book entitled Valentine. It seemed an innocent enough title, but the front gave a vaguely creepy feeling. It was of a boy singing into a microphone, a boy that couldn't have been more than thirteen. But what set it off were both the dark colours and the fangs in his mouth.  
  
"What is that?" she asked softly, unable to help herself.  
  
"_Valentine_," replied Majik without looking up, his green-tinted eyes still scanning the words. "A vampire novel, of course."  
  
"Why do you read those if they're so inaccurate?"  
  
Majik shrugged, turning a page. After a moment he smirked, pulling out a torn piece of paper he often used as a bookmark and placing it between the pages. He closed the book, setting it in his lap. "I think they're funny," he said. "Inaccurate, perhaps, but amusing in that way." He held up the book, wiggling it slightly. "In this, a random character finds a dead girl in a dumpster, but she has a gaping hole in her. She's a vampire, I suppose, but she has no blood... Just clear fluids." The smirk grew, very creepy with his angelic face. "And the guy was turned on just putting his hand in that hole."  
  
Cleao tried not to grimace. "That's disgusting. Why do you read that stuff?"  
  
Majik was silent for a few moments. If the truth should tell, he wasn't quite sure why. He'd told Orphen -- _'That can't really be his name, can it?'_ he wondered idly -- that this sort of book was the type of thing he didn't normally read. But he'd been intrigued by the cover, and the way the author wrote was very choppy. There was little skill in there; it was pretty much a wildly masochistic sex novel with vampires and gore.  
  
But something about it drew Majik all in. The darkness fascinated him. He didn't like dramatic stories, but dark ones were completely different.  
  
As many people said, darkness was more enticing than light. There was innocence, and then there was everything forbidden. Since humans in general tended to want what they couldn't have, they usually chose anything forbidden.  
  
Majik was no exception.  
  
When he said nothing, Cleao sighed and pressed on to an entirely different topic, one she clearly wanted to discuss. Majik didn't have to be able to sense her thoughts to know it. "You weren't very nice to Fiena and Erris today."  
  
"Oh, was Erris the name of that fox girl?" asked Majik mildly, picking up the book again. He ignored the slight curl of Cleao's lip that indicated she was bothered by that book, but she didn't dare say anything against it.  
  
"I just wish you were more grateful to Fiena," said Cleao softly.  
  
"For giving me another history lesson I already knew? No, thank you."  
  
For the first time in a long while, something akin to anger sparked in Cleao's eyes. She strode over to Majik, ripping the book from his hands and throwing it aside. "Look," she snapped. "There's something called common courtesy, Majik. Whatever happened to yours?"  
  
The smaller blonde narrowed his eyes, their colour darkening from calm sea-green to raging dark blue, almost black in colour. "Don't bring up the past," he said softly so that even she had to lean in close to hear it. "And don't you ever talk about my manners. I _hate_ that."  
  
"You used to be such a sweet boy," she returned, not taking her eyes off him. "Whatever happened to that boy, hm? I thought you'd never change. You had too firm a grasp on that lovely ignorance, Majik. What happened to it? When did you become such a hateful bastard?!" she screamed, her voice having slowly been rising as she ranted on.  
  
Majik stood without warning, moonlight kissing the golden strands on his head as they swirled around his head like a flurry of bats. For a split second there was nothing, simply cold stares, but then power that wasn't completely foreign to Cleao washed over her. She gasped, not hearing it, and stumbled backwards. Majik's rage blinded her; it poured over her like heavy sheets of rain in a sea storm, finally forcing her to her knees as her quaking hands came up to clutch at her aching skull.  
  
Then there was a heavy pressure, and the rage was gone. Majik looked a bit raged, a bit breathless, and very furious. "Don't ever bring that up again," he hissed, eyes wild as he took a step away from her. "Ever! I'll never forgive you for it, Cleao! _DON'T EVER REMIND ME AGAIN!_"  
  
It was worse than a child throwing a tantrum; it struck guilt in her heart, making the pain in her head seem insignificant in comparison. She didn't try to avoid Majik's kick to her ribs. It wasn't exactly a common occurrence, but she had learned quickly it was best to take whatever he gave her. He could be worse, really.  
  
But really, it scared Cleao how much he had changed since they'd first met. Even for a vampire two hundred years of age, it was an unbelievably drastic thing.  
  
She rolled over on her side, hand reaching under her shirt to graze the bruise beneath her breast. It was likely cracked, but if she went to bed now and left it alone, it would heal by morning. She could forgo one night of feeding.  
  
Cleao resisted sighing; the simple action would only worsen the fiery pain in her chest. It hurt to stand, but she did manage to stumble to her room and collapse to her bed, struggling not to cry in pain. Oh, the cracked rib was nothing. But the guilt was stabbing at her soul, whatever was left of it, reminding her why she was in this situation in the first place.  
  
It was one of those times she remembered that being immortal really sucked.  
  
  


  
  
Why was it that rain was more symbolic than any other weather? Majik wondered this as he stood before his window, fingers making nonsense patterns on the cold glass. The thrum of the rain was soothing, calming his enraged senses. Slowly he was getting feeling back in his body; he was regaining control of his emotions, and a moderate amount of guilt struck him.  
  
He hated to admit it, but Cleao had a point. When he'd been human, Majik had been the sweetest boy you would ever meet. He had been pretty even then, especially for a boy, though he'd had a childish look in his eyes. Over time that had been replaced with thinly concealed darkness and an odd sort of maturity. No one at his supposed age should have eyes so deep, so thoughtful... But no one notices this, either. He was just pretty. He always had been.  
  
His polite facade wasn't completely fake. As a human, mortal, he had been very sweet and kind. Some things came naturally, others were heavily influenced by his upbringing, and that was what had given him the charm he'd unknowingly possessed and unleashed upon several people.  
  
Now, looking back, Majik was amazed at how blind he had been then. Never giving care to the next day, not giving thought to what he was grateful for... But weren't all humans the same?  
  
He leaned forward, parting the curtains further to rest his forehead against the window. The coldness made him feel melancholy, and the rain... As he had just been wondering, why was it so symbolic? Just what symbol _was it? Life? Relief? Tears? Death?  
  
To Majik, it couldn't possibly be life. He was undead. Relief was nowhere to be seen, so long as he was some form of a breathing being. After all, he had to feed an insatiable thirst to keep from starving in horrible pain... And rain couldn't be death to him, either. Vampires really could swim in running water; that crossing over it was a myth. The only things that could kill a vampire were being pierced through the heart with wood and burning.  
  
And, of course, death by a Demon's magic.  
  
His hand clenched without his conscious thought, his unclipped nails biting the pale, fragile skin. How ironic, he thought, to be named after one thing that could kill him. True, the spellings were different, but how horribly ironic all the same.  
  
It was one of many things Majik knew he hated. Hate, hate, hate... Was he really so bitter? Was that the distant crying of his long-lost childhood wailing deep within him? He hated the screams; the screams drove him insane to the point of tears. Once in a very rare while, Majik would find them to be too much. He would start screaming for _them_ to stop, shriek either until he was hoarse or until Cleao stopped him from nearly committing suicide.  
  
Because only darkness would stop those screams forever.  
  
Majik shuddered, pounding his fist against the glass as he struggled to think of something else. No, he couldn't start listening to them again, not after the last attack had only been a few months ago! When they'd started, they had only been a year or two apart, but as time went on they slowly grew louder, more alive, more insistent to be heard.  
  
"I don't _want_ to hear you," he hissed fiercely. "Shut up! Shut! Up!"  
  
After an elongated, tense moment, Majik finally felt himself relaxing. No, they wouldn't make themselves heard tonight. He could be at semi-peace tonight... Just for tonight.  
  
The longer he put it off, the better... Though they would probably drive him to complete suicide the next time he heard them.  
  
Who were they, anyway? They were only piercing, little screams, the sound of many children, yet all with the same voice. Only the pitches varied.  
  
Who was it in his head? Majik feared, mostly, that it was himself... His mortal self, pleading to be let free.  
  
_'But I can't do that,'_ he thought desperately. _'I'll die then... I'm not ready to die! I'm too scared!'_  
  
But hadn't that been what had driven him into this immortal hell in the first place? The desire to live? Fear of dying? Why couldn't he make his mind up about what he wanted?  
  
Majik closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his mouth before he finally let out a warm gust of breath between his pale lips. As long as he didn't think about it, it would leave him alone.  
  
_'So then think about something else,'_ he told himself, glancing around his room as he hastily pulled the curtains shut. _'Think about... About...'_  
  
A sharp, shrill noise broke through the air. Majik started, heart racing with the human blood that still filtered through him. That damned choir teacher; she had been a bit of a jumpy one, it seemed. Well, that was understandable. Who would want to be caught violating their own students?  
  
The shrill ring echoed through the air again, and this time Majik realized it was the telephone at his bedside. Curious -- __'Maybe it's the school; I wonder if Cleao missed something on the papers?' -- Majik picked up the receiver, tucking it beneath his ear a bit uncomfortably in the fashion one unused to talking on the phone did. "Kaughten residence," he said with his sugar-coated voice.  
  
"Ah, so this _is_ your number! Right, Kevin? This _is_ Kevin, right, and not his cute sister?"  
  
Majik blinked several times before an unexpected laugh escaped his throat, high and a bit maniacal. What in the world was Orphen doing, calling his house?_


	4. Chapter Three

**:: Illusions ::**  
  
_~Sorcerous Stabber Orphen~_  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Sorcerous Stabber Orphen or any of the characters. Rights go to Akita Sadanobu and ADVision.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairings: Mariabelle+Orphen, random girls+Orphen  
  
Warnings: AU, language, swearing, blood  
  
Notes: Yay! Another chapter! How I struggled with this one... I can only pray it's up to par with everything else.  
  
Oh... Something to note about the information on black and white sorcerers. This *is* SSO canon information taken straight from the manga. So if you need to know the distinct differences, I've given you a couple there. Description of witch magic was influenced by L.J. Smith's _Night World_ series witches.  
  
Okay. Yep. That should be all-- Oh, one more thing. Read Mina-sensei's introspective-Cleao piece, _Family_. It's very sweet, and it manages to balance out making Cleao a great character while still hinting at Orphen/Majik.  
  
And yes. That's all.  
  
  


  
  
"Why can't you do me this one favour?"  
  
The whining tone looked very out of place coming from the person emitting it. Several eyes turned at the familiar, pleasantly nasal voice. Some titters arose, turning into giddy giggles when slanted sienna eyes rose to meet a few. A grin spread across the young man's face, and he winked openly.  
  
The only person that appeared exasperated was the wavy-haired blonde before him. Annoyed at his open display of affections, she frowned before saying in an unnaturally cold voice, "Because I can't go out giving personal information, _Matt_."  
  
The smug expression was replaced with something akin to horror. "Don't call me that," he hissed, blood tinting his face as he grew embarrassed. "Use _Orphen__, damnit, Orphen!"  
  
The blonde smiled sweetly. "Dear me, it just slipped my mind."  
  
Orphen groaned, sliding his heavily boot-clad feet across the linoleum floor, giving the girl before him a very pitiful look. "I don't want to _stalk_ him, Mariabelle, I just want a phone number!"  
  
"Phone numbers are easily traced to a house," said Mariabelle delicately.  
  
He sighed, resting his chin on his hands. "Please?" He gave her his most winning look, the single expression that got him whatever he wanted with most girls. He scrunched his eyebrows together, pulling his lower lip between his teeth and worrying it gently. Combined with his very puppy-like expression, it seemed very off with his wicked looks-- But it was a perfect combination.  
  
Mariabelle quickly looked away, though the image was pressed firmly into her mind. She tapped the desk restlessly for a moment, blushing furiously as she finally asked, "Why can't you ask him yourself?"  
  
"Because I want to talk to him _now_," insisted Orphen.  
  
"Why?"  
  
The brunette paused, this time looking truly confused and worried. It was a good question; why _did_ he want to call Kevin now? He could easily find him at school tomorrow; if the girlishly pretty looks didn't catch his eye right away, he was certain anyone would be happy to point the way to him. There were advantages to being popular, after all.  
  
A sigh distracted him from his thoughts, and he glanced at Mariabelle, who had apparently noticed his expression. "Oh, I don't know--"  
  
"_Please_?"  
  
She sighed, glancing sideways at the other students in the office. After school was usually their time for volunteer work. Most girls only volunteered because they knew Orphen was at least somewhat friends with Mariabelle -- her old sweetheart, rather -- and he was prone to visit every so often.  
  
Today was just one of those days, and she blonde had the dry feeling that if she refused him, someone else would try to come to his rescue anyway. __'Might as well get the upper hand, then,' she thought, moving the mouse and clicking on a few files.  
  
"Oh, all right. Give me a moment and I'll write it down. What's his last name again?"  
  
_

Orphen grinned broadly. "Thanks, Mariabelle."  
  
"What's his last name?" she asked, fingers hovering over the keyboard.  
  
"Kaughten."  
  
She paused, the arrow pausing over a list. "How do you spell that?"  
  
"The hell if I know!"  
  
Mariabelle groaned and slumped forward, head held in her hands. She should have known. Orphen was always more trouble than he was worth.  
  
  


  
  
A soft, inaudible sigh was emitted. A moment later a boy fell back onto a pale blue bedspread, one knee angled up toward the ceiling, the other dangling over the edge. Wide, aquamarine eyes blinked twice, and then a feminine voice said, "How did you find my phone number?"  
  
From the receiver he heard a smooth voice reply, "Is that the first thing you say to me?"  
  
The blonde smiled, drawing an arm over his face. It was hard to believe he was talking to a human this way, without suspicion, hatred or bitterness in mind. Maybe it was because Orphen actually seemed like a person. Probing lightly, Majik could easily tell that the brunette had worries and cares, just like any other teenage mortal. Unlike most that tried to talk to him, however, this young man was interesting-- There was a part of his mind that, no matter how he tried (and he couldn't try too hard, lest he be noticed) Majik couldn't reach.  
  
Which meant that Orphen was hiding something, and Majik was interested as to what it was.  
  
"Yes," he said in response to the question. "Why are you calling me?"  
  
He heard Orphen make a _tsking noise on the phone. "Well, aren't you the nice one. You remind me of a girl, you know that? Pretty, feminine, a smart-ass..."  
  
Majik scowled. Yes, he __knew he was pretty, and he used that to his advantage when he needed to. But he despised others pointing it out to him. More often than not it was used as a come-on, and when a guy tried it -- a __straight guy, rather -- it infuriated him. Couldn't they tell the difference? He could; Majik could tell a male from a female easily. It had something to do with his enhanced senses. Upon looks alone, most females had tapered eyebrows, wore at least a little makeup, and generally had rounder bodies. If they smelled of perfume (or what they __believed was perfume, thought Majik as he made a face) then they were most likely female.  
  
And with a few exceptions, such as Majik himself, most women had lighter voices than men.  
  
"I'm a guy."  
  
He could picture Orphen's smirk. "I know that. Now, anyway."  
  
Majik blinked, nipping his lower lip to keep from laughing aloud again. The urge passed quickly, relieving him. He wasn't used to compulsive emotions, and he had the distinct feeling Orphen had been disturbed by his last outburst. Most humans didn't laugh like a serious psychopath, after all. "Mm."  
  
He closed his eyes briefly, reaching out mentally. He felt a brief touch of Cleao -- who was fast asleep, much to his relief -- and within seconds he located the brunette he was speaking to. It wasn't hard; with his voice as a guide, even over the phone, Majik could pinpoint his location easily. He was a few blocks away, seeming to be lazily lounging on a couch. Was that where he lived? It looked nice.  
  
The blonde quickly drew back before he could alert the mahogany-eyes boy to his silent presence. He dimly heard Orphen saying something in the background, but he was only half listening.  
  
_'Where were his parents, I wonder?_' thought Majik, frowning. __'He doesn't have siblings, either? Don't tell me there's actually **significance behind that ridiculous nickname...'  
  
"Kevin?"  
  
Majik momentarily wondered who was being addressed before he remembered his alias. "Yes?"  
  
"You spaced out on me! I was wondering how long you're staying."  
  
The blonde frowned. He didn't like the unnecessary intrusion, and now he was wishing that Orphen would go away so that he could rest a bit, maybe go out for a moonlight stroll. "I don't know. Why are you bothering me, anyway?"  
  
"Because you're cute. Am I really bothering you that much?"  
  
Majik stared at the ceiling, not even blinking. **__'Cute? That's your only reason? I'm **cute?' After a long pause, taking time to truly ponder the thought, he did a double take. **__'But he likes girls...'  
  
"But you like girls," he murmured aloud.  
  
His tone was soft, but not soft enough for Orphen to miss it. "Yeah."  
  
Now he was a bit puzzled. Orphen was a __different human, after all. "But you just called me cute."  
  
He heard the senior snort. "Oh, relax. It's just an observation. Kind of like how other girls talk about how their friends are cute, or pretty."  
  
He had a point. Majik fell silent again, closing his eyes. "I have to go."  
  
He heard Orphen sigh impatiently. "Look, I just __told you--"  
  
"I'm tired," Majik cut in, snapping unnecessarily. The voices from before were whispering, but he couldn't understand them. It was almost like they were chanting to him, taunting him, trying to tell him something but refusing to at the same time. It was irritating, and he needed to get away to clear his head. "And I have homework. Goodnight." And without waiting for a response, he hung up.  
  
It was rude, he knew, and he may as well have told the older boy something even worse and driven him away completely, but he wasn't in the mood for arguments or insults. And anyway, Orphen was just a human. He had to remember that; Orphen was a __human and Majik didn't want anything to do with them.  
  
He didn't bother sending Cleao a mental note of going out. He would be just fine on his own, and she didn't need to know, anyway. He was, after all, stronger than her in nearly every way.  
  
Nearly every way... Which pretty much meant physically, psychic, anything that didn't directly involve thought or emotion.  
  
Mentally and emotionally, Majik was __very messed up. And he knew it.  
  
Majik didn't bother putting on a jacket. There was little moon out tonight, and sunrise wasn't for another good few hours. At the first sight of the red sky, he knew he would be able to make it back before being burned. A little sun didn't hurt; the direct rays left marks and, if he was unlucky enough, scars.  
  
Such was _not_ the case tonight, he knew.  
  
Majik padded out the room, grabbing his key and shoving it into his pocket. He was barefoot when he stepped out, and the concrete was pleasantly cool on the sole of his foot. He hadn't been on a real night stroll in a while. Usually he was so tired he fell asleep earlier than this, but the earlier drink had replenished him. He had fresh blood coursing through his dead veins and it gave him an imitation of life.  
  
The blonde tipped his head back, gazing up silently at the stars for a few moments. Quickly he could place Orion, as well as Scorpio, Taurus, and other simple constellations. He took a few steps into the night, still gazing at the sky, searching for his own made-up constellations. It was a strange game he had started when he had still been human, and right now it was making him relax and taking his mind off all his problems, and that was exactly what he needed.  
  
After a while he grew bored. He finally looked at his surroundings, a bit surprised to find himself at a beach. Or an imitation of one; there was water, but no real place to wade into the salty peninsula ocean, nor was there much to do but sit at one of the picnic benches or climb on the children's toys.  
  
Majik had never played on such things as a child. For an odd reason he couldn't begin to explain, he felt compelled to try so now. He'd never thought about it as Time went on; two hundred years was a blur, though a distinctive one, and ever since...  
  
He quickly shook his head, trying to purge the thought. No, he was out to relax. He _refused_ to think about anything that had happened then. He couldn't __afford to; what was left of his sanity depended on it.  
  
Majik grasped the edge of a small bridge on the wood-and-plastic toy, pulling himself up swiftly. He stood and allowed the roped wood to rock him side to side gently. Holding the side of a railing, Majik pushed with his legs, causing the bridge to sway more. And then... He smiled.  
  
The serene moment was shattered by a shrill scream. Majik jerked his head up, aqua eyes flashing silver. __'That wasn't human.'  
  
Before he stopped to consider what he was doing, Majik jumped down and away from the miniature jungle gym, tearing through the park at the speed only a vampire could muster, rivaling that of a graceful cheetah. And in a way that was what Majik was: a fast, keen predator seeking its prey.  
  
Majik quickly skidded to a stop, nearly tripping over a toy some child had left embedded in the dirt. He glanced around, eyes narrowed, watching for any sign that whatever that __thing had been would reappear, or give notice to its whereabouts.  
  
After a long, tense ten minutes, the vampire finally heard a soft snarling sound in some brush some ways away. With catlike grace and quiet, Majik slipped forward through the shadows. His shadow slunk along the grass and earth; a lamplight threw eerie shadows across his face, turning half of him darker than the surrounding night.  
  
Majik had only brushed against the tips of the leaves, standing on his toes to peek over the hedge, when something dark and heavy leapt over and slammed into him with bone-crushing force. Majik crashed to the ground, gasping for lost breath. He caught a glimpse of glowing amber, dark fur, huge wings and a long, pointed tail before whatever it was snarled and jumped away, bounding into the blackness faster than even Majik could follow.  
  
The attack left him dazed and momentarily stunned. The blonde lay there longer than necessary, running over the short scene in his mind. After a while he blinked, pushing himself into a sitting position.  
  
That had been, without a doubt, Killiranshelo Finrandi.  
  
  
_

  
  
Cleao nearly stumbled over her own feet trying to catch up with him. Majik strode ahead of her, expression hard, his short legs carrying him swiftly down the long corridors of their master's home.  
  
"Majik, _what_ is going on?" she asked for what had to be the millionth time. She'd seriously lost count after the sixtieth-and-something.  
  
"Be quiet," he snapped, hackles rising. "You're irritating. Just shut up and follow me; you'll find out soon enough."  
  
The blonde female bit her lip, accidently cutting it open. Cleao quickly retracted her fangs; Majik had torn her away from a feeding. She had blood down her front and on her teeth, staining the milky white. She ran a tongue over them nervously, sucking on the tip of her thumb. All she wanted to know right now was, why in earth did Majik feel skipping their third day of new school and questioning their cover so important? What did he need to discuss with Master Flameheart?  
  
Upon first glace, both were immediately ushered into what looked like an important executive's office. Flameheart was nowhere to be seen, yet all the same Majik's perfect, innocent mask was in place. He sank into a chair across the shiny wooden desk. _'He taunts us, I'm sure,' thought Cleao as she took a seat as well.  
  
Within fifteen minutes appeared the great sorcerer himself. Unlike Majik, Flameheart rarely masked his emotions. Right now there was a displeased sneer on his face, lighting his red eyes unpleasantly.  
  
He slid into his own chair, staring at them shrewdly. Finally, he said in a too-silky voice, "Please tell me the reason you found so important to wake me up just as I was falling to rest."  
  
Majik stared back, smiling sweetly. "Well, I just confirmed that Killiranshelo is, indeed, in my and Cleao's designated area."  
  
Flameheart was not impressed. "And so?"  
  
Majik shrugged. "I thought it was information enough. I suppose you refuse to be satisfied until Cleao and I purge this... Demon?"  
  
Master Flameheart gave him a nasty smile. "Until _someone_ does. While I count on you, dear Majik--" The turquoise eyes flickered with unpleasantness at the sickeningly disturbing pet name, "--I hardly believe that *you* two shall restrain him."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
Cleao's crystalline eyes flickered to Majik nervously. Flameheart couldn't sense people's thoughts they way Majik did, but she could. And right now Majik's exterior was calm-- And frighteningly enough, so were his thoughts.  
  
What had happened? Where was the mass confusion and darkness? Why was it so calm and even darker?  
  
"You and this girl here," Flameheart nodded toward Cleao, still not taking his eyes off Majik, "are the most reliable for information. You are quick to find things. Have you pinpointed his guise?"  
  
"Oh, we were supposed to do that?" inquired Majik, his eyes widening innocently. "I thought we just had to spot him. Hm. So it seems our field has expanded a bit?"  
  
Flameheart sneered. "Mock me all you like, boy. You're still under my orders; know your place!"  
  
For a half-mad moment, Cleao was sure Majik was going to retort. His thoughts were frenzied again, but then they settled down. And now she couldn't see what he was trying to do. Majik was cloaking his thoughts, and trying to read them was like running into a smooth, dome-shaped black wall, where everything was locked away tight.  
  
"Forgive me, Master Flameheart," murmured Majik, lowering his gaze. "I was out of line. I do apologize."  
  
Their master was hardly satisfied, but at least he disregarded Majik as a threat. "Is that all? If so, you may leave."  
  
Cleao, relieved to go, stood. But her wrist was clasped in an ironlike grip, holding her still. She glanced down at Majik, who was still seated quite comfortably in his chair. "No. I have one request, Master."  
  
"Go on."  
  
Cleao blinked, her gaze fixed on her partner's face. Majik's outward emotions remained blank and unchanged, and his next statement was an odd one.  
  
"Please send Azalea to our district."  
  
  
_

  
  
Majik was oddly drained as he spread out across the couch, dangling his bare feet over the armrest. Cleao had disappeared, most likely to do some "cover-up work," which to Majik basically meant she was shopping. He could care less what the humans thought of him. Some of _them were strange, and they didn't regard those strange people as inhuman.  
  
But no. Cleao insisted that they couldn't take any chances. If humoring her didn't occasionally benefit him for amusement, Majik would have rejected the idea completely.  
  
He sighed, his arm lazily stretching out for the remote. He flipped the television on, watching some MTV music videos through lazily lidded eyes. So tired... Why was he so tired? He yawned, stretching without moving from his comfortable position too much, before dropping limply back on the plush furniture.  
  
He'd spent a lot of energy, which was why he was exhausted. Majik knew this well; it had happened before. Cloaking his thoughts was a straining task, and the strength of the shield he had erected had left him weak and weary. If he had had enough blood left in his system, he knew his head would be throbbing painfully with a headache.  
  
He was almost asleep when the piercing shriek of the telephone startled him to awareness. Scowling, Majik rubbed at one eye sleepily. _'Damned... stupid... **thing...'**_ he thought crossly. He had half a mind to let it ring, but the wailing was too much after only three rings. He finally stalked over to the kitchen, practically tearing the receiver off the hook. He took a moment to recollect himself before he cradled it between his head and shoulder, saying gently, "Kaughten residence."  
  
"Finally! I've been trying to get a hold of you since lunch! You need a cell phone, Kevin."  
  
Majik groaned inwardly. __'Damned... stupid... senior!' he silently growled. Why did he have to pique the amber-eyed teen's interest? _Why_? Sometimes he really hated himself for the things he did; often they led to things he disliked.  
  
"I'll make note of that," he said quietly, masking his voice to make it a bit huskier than usual. "I wasn't feeling too well; Cleao had to stay back to take care of me. She's so protective..."  
  
"Hmm." Orphen was silent for a moment, before he said quite calmly, "Well, you're feeling better, right? Then you can come to this party I'm having."  
  
Majik resisted the sudden impulse to drive something wooden and splintering through his eyeball. _'Great, he's even stupider than I gave him credit for,'_ he thought. Outwardly, he murmured, "Oh, I don't think so. I'm just a freshman--"  
  
"Your sister can come, too. I thought she was __cute. I won't hit on her," Orphen added hastily, obviously remembering Majik's request -- warning, more like -- from the first time they had met. "And it'd be a great chance for you to get to know people... You know?"  
  
The blonde smiled tiredly, leaning against the wall for support. Why was his mind so hazy? "I doubt I'll be here long enough to grow attached even in a friendly way to anyone." If he had his way, he would be gone by tomorrow-- Or now. This was really irksome.  
  
"You don't have to stay long," cajoled Orphen.  
  
Majik's eyes slid open; he wasn't fully aware of the tiny twin pinprick sensation against his lip, nor that his turquoise eyes were glowing with a moonlit silver-- and it was still midday. "Why are you so adamant? You said I was cute, an observation, you said... Is that not enough attention to pay to a freshman?" He was hardly aware of his words, either. Lack of blood could make him careless. He knew he should hang up now, go hunting, or at least reach out to Cleao for assistance. But...  
  
He couldn't tear himself away from the voice over the phone. There was something distinctly familiar about it, and for the -- rather undead -- life of him, Majik couldn't figure out __why.  
  
_'But you should accept,'_ a tiny voice Majik recognized as a normally dormant one amongst many in his head whispered_. 'A party, with people, many people... Killiranshelo could be there.  
  
'And once you rid yourself of *that* Demon, you rid yourself of Flameheart. It's that simple.'_  
  
It couldn't be that simple; Majik knew that. But the whispering voice was insistent, and it was beginning to irritate him as it grew louder. _'Go, go! Think of the mission; the project! Think of being free! You **can't** pass up such an opportunity--'_  
  
Majik heard the last sentence in double tones, one as the agitated voice and another as Orphen. They both meant very different things, he was sure, but at least the one within himself was right. It was a decent chance at finally cornering Killiranshelo.  
  
"All right," he interrupted, trying to be gentle with his words. "Explain the details to me later; I need to rest and... And I need nourishment."  
  
He heard Orphen snort. "You talk like an old teacher, you know that? __Nourishment..." He could imagine the brunette shaking his head, smirking smugly. "Fine. You'd better be at school tomorrow, or I'll hunt you down myself Saturday."  
  
_'And lose the game horribly,_' thought Majik, wearing a smirk of his own that destroyed his angelic features. In that moment he looked -- and felt very much -- evil. "Okay." Now the only thing he needed to figure out was how to explain it to Cleao. Now that he accepted, his mind felt suddenly cleared, and he had the suspicious feeling that it wasn't just tiredness.  
  
Unless, of course, he was so tired that he was apt to find anything suspicious, in which case, the situation wasn't odd at _all_... Majik shook his head, grimacing. He was only confusing himself further. He cradled the phone, dimly realizing that he hadn't said any goodbyes.  
  
Oh, well. Orphen wasn't his problem, currently-- lack of energy was, and it called to him, demanding to be assuaged.  
  
He inhaled shakily, deeply disturbed that he was actually beginning to listen to at least one of the voices. Why did they have to plague him now, when they had been dormant since...  
  
Since the day of his death.  
  
Majik shivered, clutching his arms close to his body in a desperate hug. "I must be starving," he muttered, pushing himself away from the wall. _'Yes, that must be it. I need to feed...'_ Cleao wasn't within calling distance, so it looked like he'd have to do it himself this time. Majik didn't mind too terribly. All the same...  
  
Someone was going to die tonight.  
  
  
_

  
  
Fiena had a bad omen the moment she stepped out the door. The sun was only beginning to sink, the sky stained orange and crimson. She gazed at the lovely but somehow creepy scenery with apprehension. After a long moment she tiptoed down the cement steps, leaving the orphanage behind.  
  
Erris had wanted to go with her, but as she was still in her "mating season" mood, Fiena had gently persuaded her to stay behind. It wouldn't do for the fox shapeshifter to pounce the very first male she met.  
  
A small smile graced the witch's lips. Once she had asked Erris why she only went after guys; why didn't girls interest her? Erris had blinked, staring at her for a long moment. "Well," she had said slowly, obviously picking her words carefully. "I have nothing against liking girls... But... Um... I just can't picture myself with one. You know?"  
  
The brunette sighed, tucking a lock of wavy hair behind her ear. She wasn't afraid of the night streets; always her charms and spells could protect her, and should she get injured, she could heal herself right away. That was Fiena's specialty: healing. It was what the witches called white magic.  
  
Witches' white magic and sorcerer's white magic differed greatly, just as their black magic was not the same. To a witch or occasionally a mage half-breed, white magic was healing, used for defense and generally was there to help. Black magic was dark, used to seduce, to kill, to harm. Sorcerers classified their magic very differently; the system was more complicated. Basically, there were seven different categories, six that belonged to the Dragon Race, and one other.  
  
Fiena frowned. Her master, Childman, and his rival, Flameheart, used Voice Magic. To use it, they needed their voices as a medium. The two types classified there were black and white, the former used for close-range and physical power and the latter was normally used for long-distance battles, and made it easy to manipulate time and spirit.  
  
Master Childman and Flameheart were both powerful users of black Voice Magic. However, Fiena knew that Childman was well-rounded in his practices; he studied white magic and was able to use both easily. However, because of his divided studies, Flameheart was that much more powerful in the art of black Voice Magic.  
  
Fiena sighed, toying with her hair. It was a close call-- the most powerful, or the cleverest? She always prayed to her Dragon, prayed that it would give her master guidance. She knew that with Childman as an Elder, over Flameheart, the magical world, the world unknown to humans, would be much more balanced.  
  
With Flameheart in charge, there beside his mother, all that would come forth would be chaos. Fiena had no doubts that Demons would rule again, killing mortals as they wished, sending them fleeing in terror... Everything would be reduced to ashes, and old primal instincts would rise. There would be bloodshed... And killing.  
  
Fiena hated killing, or anything to do with death.  
  
The witch drew to a sudden halt, blinking as a familiar, very strong smell reached her nose. It made her feel queasy, and despite herself, she looked down.  
  
Blood pooled the ground, splattered everywhere. It was soaking into her clothes, through the ritual moccasins and the hem of her pretty dress. Fiena grimaced, quickly moving out of the puddle. She trailed the stains across concrete, onto a nearby lawn, and to a dead, limp body.  
  
She stared. Twin puncture wounds were on the human's throat-- it looked very much like a girl, with long, almost white-blonde hair. Her crimson life was spilled down her front, not only from the puncture wounds, but from several scratches and cuts and even a few holes in her still, cold form. Fiena felt for a pulse, just to be sure, before she shuddered and drew back.  
  
This wasn't in the contract, it wasn't her job, but the sight disturbed her. She had to talk to Majik. If it wasn't his doing, no doubt it was either one of his allies or Killiranshelo.


	5. Chapter Four

**:: Illusions ::**  
  
_~Sorcerous Stabber Orphen~_  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Sorcerous Stabber Orphen or any of the characters. Rights go to Akita Sadanobu and ADVision.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Pairings: undetermined  
  
Warnings: AU, some OOCness, language, mention of abuse, strangeness  
  
Notes: It's a tad shorter than usual, and I'm not sure I'm entirely happy with this. *shrug* Oh, well. I try, I guess...  
  
  


  
  
The next day was so predictable, Majik seriously had to wonder why he had left the apartment.  
  
There had been a test in two of his classes, neither of which he had to study for. The boring information was drilled into his mind, staining his memory. It was highly annoying that he had to keep "refreshing" his memory, but he would simply have to deal.  
  
Naturally, he had purposefully missed a fair amount of questions. Majik was careful to make sure he rarely got A's or anything below a C. He was simply... average.  
  
How _boring._  
  
Geometry had been, strangely enough, the most exciting class that day. Majik had answered every question thrown at him in a soft monotone. He was well aware of the admiring stares of his female peers, but he simply ignored it. He wasn't prepared, however, for Mr. Burns to trigger a reaction in his empathic senses. It had been mild, hardly something most undead immortals would give thought to, but it piqued Majik's interest.  
  
A stray thought that had definitely not been his own -- nor any other student's in the class -- had slipped through the crevices of his mind-cloaking. It had been very unimportant in itself, merely an equation of sorts, but Majik had been positive his cloaking abilities were up to par. His eyes had risen, staring straight at his teacher. Mr. Burns only glanced his way, the strangest of sparks in his eyes.  
  
When he had time, he would have to ask. However, Majik was in a hurry to escape the moment the bell rang. He didn't give the teacher or anyone else a chance to say more than two words to him before he had slipped away and into the pulsing mass of freshman students.  
  
After that everything had been boring. In his last period, Choir, Majik kept glancing at the clock, sitting quietly in his chair and clicking his pen on his crossed knee.  
  
It was strange how time was. Though he had been living for more than two hundred years, Majik still found every minute that passed just a slow and painful as any mortal did. In fact, he found it worse than it had seemed as a mortal child. Because there _was_ no Time for him to waste; it didn't exist for him. There was just immortality, and there was only the smallest possibility of him getting killed.  
  
Maybe he was just tired of living.  
  
Majik sighed impatiently, cursing inwardly until the bell rang only moments later. Everything was against him, really, even Time.  
  
Outside awaited Cleao. Majik was vaguely startled to see four others with her. Frowning, he made his way over.  
  
"Ah! Majik!"  
  
He shot Cleao a look that clearly told her to hold her tongue, and then he surveyed the small group. He was pleased to see Azalea and her male partner, a tiny, pixie-sized elf that hid beneath her short but thick hair. His name was Adrial, and he was strange-looking, even by elven standards. Most elves had milky white skin, and this one was faintly tinted with purple. Also, the average elf could grow to be about four feet tall, while this one was just the right size to nestle comfortably upon his partner's shoulder. Adrial was young even by elven years, but most had reached their height peak by his age.  
  
He was not pleased, however, to see Fiena and Erris also there.  
  
"How are you?" asked Fiena pleasantly, smiling.  
  
Majik stared at her blankly before remembering his surroundings. A false smile replaced the slight scowl, and Azalea cocked an eyebrow. "Fine, thank you. What's going on?"  
  
Fiena gestured to the parking lot, where Cleao had, Majik assumed, parked her car. "Please, let's go to a more private place. I would like to have a word or two with you-- You may come as well," she added, giving Azalea and Cleao kind smiles. "It concerns us all in this district."  
  
Azalea tossed her violet hair, smirking. "I'm not assigned to this area," she replied. "Though I may be soon, if I'm reading dear Majik here right."  
  
For once, Majik's smile didn't falter. Azalea was, in a sense, the one that understood him the most. They were much alike just as they were very different. Also, she never patronized him just because he looked like a pretty child. She was one of the few people that treated him like he actually could think for himself; she recognized him for what he was, and he loved that. She was like the best older sister he could ask for.  
  
"Let's hope so," was all he said quietly.  
  
Cleao bit her lip, glancing at the brown-haired witch. "Majik--"  
  
"I don't want to talk to her," the smaller vampire snapped, glaring daggers at both Fiena and Erris. "Either of them. I told you the last time it would be in our best interests to pretend the other didn't exist. I got what I wanted, and you got what you needed."  
  
"But," Erris started desperately, speaking for the first time around him, "it _does_ concern you; it concerns everyone here. There may be--"  
  
"I. Don't. Care," the blonde grit out, glaring coldly at the fox girl. "Cleao will drive Azalea and I home, and then _we will handle _our_ business, while _you_ handle __yours. Understand?"  
  
He didn't like the serious look Fiena was giving him. Her warm brown eyes weren't quite as gentle as usual, and he had the nasty feeling she could somehow read his mind without his being able to sense her. "I understand perfectly," she said softly. "But I don't believe you're making the right choice."  
  
Majik felt his hackles rising, but he was quick to regain control over himself. Now was not the time, especially not in public. He closed his eyes briefly, giving Fiena a not-so-nice smile before he nodded to Cleao, tipping his head toward the parking lot. His female counterpart looked disappointed, but she didn't refuse.  
  
"Bye," she said almost sadly to the witch, waving before trudging off before Majik and Azalea.  
  
It wasn't until Majik was settled in the backseat with Azalea that he finally heard Adrial pipe up. "What was that all about?"  
  
Once they were out of the student vicinity, Majik turned a dark look on the tiny elf. "None of your business."  
  
"Sorry, Majik, but we're curious," replied Azalea, smiling sweetly. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. She wore no seatbelt. "You _did_ call us away from out own business-- for what reason? Killiranshelo, I assume? Is he here?"  
  
"Yes," Majik answered, relaxing in his seat. "I ran into him the other night when I was out hunting." It was a bit of a lie, but just saying he was on a stroll sounded strange even to him. "I heard a scream, and I suppose he killed somebody. I didn't bother finding out." A strange smile came to his pale lips, almost a smirk. "I had nearly crept up on him when he pounced on me. It hurt, you know."  
  
"What did he look like?"  
  
Majik threw the elf a strange look, an almost amused one. Despite his tiny size, Adrial had a very deep, very masculine voice. Should any human see him, with his pretty elven features, none would dare mistake him for a female the moment he opened his mouth. And the voice wasn't out-of-place on him, either. It wasn't a bass tone, and had a pleasant, soothing ring to it.  
  
Of course, humans couldn't see or hear elves anyway, not even the deformed ones like Adrial. It had something to do with their magical blood. Occasionally a mortal could see one, but those cases were rare. Even Rai couldn't see him, though he was a specially gifted human with telepathic and clairvoyant abilities.  
  
"How should I know? I didn't get a good look. Dark, I guess." Majik scrunched his eyebrows together, trying to remember. Yes, dark, but what colour? It had been dark out then, too. All he knew was that it had the most amazing, glowing amber eyes he'd ever seen. Despite himself, Majik was intrigued.  
  
So long as it didn't screw up the mission, he wondered... It was a stupid, wild thought, but Majik almost wished he could speak to Killiranshelo Finrandi, to get a glimpse of what Demon thoughts ran wild inside his head.  
  
Of course, he kept this secret, recently-set desire cloaked from everyone around him, even Cleao. Or perhaps it was, _especially_ Cleao.  
  
"He had a tail," Majik remembered. "And his eyes... Glowed." Why was he holding back such important information? He was disgusted with himself, but refused to say anything more. Azalea stared at him scrutinizingly for a moment, but then she shrugged.  
  
"That's it?"  
  
"Mm... Yes. I couldn't get a good look. He was fast."  
  
She laughed, straightening in her seat. "If you say so, and he's fast even by vampire standards, then I'll take your word for it."  
  
How pleasantly warm those words made him feel. Majik discovered he liked feeling appreciated, and though Cleao was _kind_ to him, he knew that she resented him for many things he'd done. He had no connections with her; he simply worked well with her, and she __belonged to him. It was the way of the vampire system.  
  
Of course, at one point he had belonged to her. Majik scowled, banishing those thoughts from his head. Lately he had been constantly reminded of the past, and it was becoming very annoying and unnerving. He wished it would stop.  
  
"So what was so important I had to come down here?"  
  
_

Majik shot her an exasperated look. "To help subdue Killiranshelo. What else?"  
  
Azalea shrugged, but it was the elf that spoke for her. "For all we know, he's gone right to where we were only yesterday."  
  
"I don't think so." Everyone present, even Majik, was surprised at how firm and sure that came out. He couldn't explain why he believed that; it was a deep-set feeling in his gut, something he simply _knew was true without having to look into it. And Majik being who he was, was very prone to go with instinct when it rang loudly.  
  
Cleao finally pulled to a stop, parking her car just outside of the apartment complex. She turned in her seat, twisting the ignition off. "Will you be staying with us, Azalea?" she asked softly. "We don't have much room, but I'm sure I could sleep on the couch or something."  
  
Majik rolled his eyes. "Azalea can survive on the couch," he replied, giving the mage a half-lidded look. "Can't you?"  
  
"Quite," the violet-haired magic-user replied, a strange smile on her lips. "However, I'll have to decline, anyway. I have a place to stay, and whenever you need me, you can get to me quickly. Just find Childman." Laughing at both their startled expressions, she opened her side of the car door. "However, I'd like to have something to eat before I go. Someone might as well consume what you have in there."  
  
"I'll make you some coffee, then," Cleao decided, unbuckling her seatbelt and dashing for the door before anyone could comment. Majik was still in the car, darkly contemplative.  
  
"What's wrong with you?" Adrial's voice carried.  
  
Majik said nothing, but he didn't glare at him, which was a good sign. "Azalea, Childman __does know that you...?"  
  
She caught on quickly, as she tended to do. Adrial wrinkled his tiny nose in confusion as she simply said, "Of course."  
  
The blonde made a small noise; apparently it didn't bother her lover, then. "I have a question, then."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Is it possible for a Demon to interbreed with other __nonhuman creatures?" Despite their powers, mages, witches, any sort of magic-user was generally considered a human, a mortal. This was because, without their powers they would only be mortal. Such was not the case for shapeshifters, like Erris and Hartia, whose blood, body and soul were what made up what they were. The same went for vampires; they did have certain powers, but most of it was a mix of the powerful blood with their undead souls.  
  
And anyway, most humans didn't need to live off the flesh or blood of another human just to live and breathe. Majik did. Without the oxygen human blood carried, vampires wouldn't exist. They would just be corpses.  
  
The red-eyed mage narrowed her eyes, obviously noting that something unusual was going on beneath Majik's cool exterior. "Of course. A vampire-by-birth can interbreed with a human, can it not? As well as shapeshifters, elves, mages... Anything can mix with any other breed. Demons aren't excluded." She smirked. "Why? Do you fancy a Demon?"  
  
Majik scowled. "Don't be ridiculous," he said tersely, finally climbing out of the car. He slammed the door shut with more force than he had intended. "Cleao might have your coffee ready by now," he said in a pathetic attempt to change the subject. Though she knew this, Azalea didn't bother pointing it out.  
  
It wasn't until the vampire disappeared inside that Adrial spoke up again. "I don't trust him. He's gotten stranger, Azalea... Much stranger. Master Flameheart always said he would go nutters."  
  
"Those weren't the exact words he chose," remarked the mage, smiling as she tapped her chin with a perfectly manicured finger. "But I don't believe Majik is completely crazy... He just needs someone to bring him back to reality. He's too isolated."  
  
"And you're just being a romantic again."  
  
She laughed, reaching up to stroke the tiny elf on his blue-capped head. Elf hair was very soft, and it was always a pleasure to touch. Adrial certainly voiced no complaints. "Maybe so," she agreed. "But still, a little true companionship would be good for him before he drives himself over the edge... Either that, or before he kills Cleao."  
  
"It's that dangerous?" Adrial purred, half torn between surprise and enjoyment.  
  
"Mm," was Azalea's only reply. It only sharpened her elf companion's suspicion. He'd never much cared for vampires, and Majik was becoming a progressively creepy one. He did feel sorry for Cleao, knowing that she had to put up with _him_ every day, practically serving him despite the duo's excellent act of keeping up the image of Cleao's being dominant.  
  
Nevertheless, that act was slipping, and even Majik had to know it. That was why he was so edgy lately.  
  
"Well," said Azalea, tucking hair behind her ears. "How about that coffee, Adrial?"  
  
  
_

  
  
Erris groaned, slumping against the seat on the school bus. The vehicle shook and jumped at every little bump on the road, disturbing what would have been otherwise a smooth if not loud ride. The other kids were noisy, shouting and laughing loudly. Yet it was not unpleasant; to Erris, it was normal, and to Fiena, it was wonderful.  
  
Their destination was still some ways away, and Erris was frustrated. "That was a total failure," she muttered. "What's wrong with that kid, anyway?"  
  
Scenery flew by, a blur of trees and houses to the normal eye. Beside her, Fiena shook her head, saying patiently, "I did say we would part ways after that last talk. He has every right to be angry."  
  
The redhead gave her a pitiful look. "But Fiena, we _have to find out. It may benefit him as well!"  
  
"It's doubtful, but possible," said the witch delicately. Erris envied how calm and collected her partner could be, slow to anger, while the fox herself had a short fuse and was prone to snap should anyone even attempt to rub her the wrong way (both hypothetically __and literally speaking). "I was being selfish. Erris. Have some patience; we will try again."  
  
Her partner sighed, closing her pretty sky-painted blue eyes. Now that her fox state was leaving its regularly scheduled "mating season" period, she was very much back to normal, or at least she was as normal as she could get in her human guise. In all honesty, though Fiena liked her partner very much, she preferred Erris the way she was when she acted more normal.  
  
The bus slowed to a stop, and the two girls stood. Along with a few other students, they filed out of the bus, waiting until it had roared off and the others were a safe distance away before they spoke again. "So we're going to try again, then?" asked Erris. "Talk to the vampire, I mean."  
  
"Majik," Fiena corrected her. "Yes. We will. Perhaps we should give him a few days to cool off, though. I noticed he was on edge."  
  
"Yeah, I felt it," the fox-shifter grumbled. "Weird kid, that one is."  
  
Fiena said nothing, staring down thoughtfully at her sneakers. She was a bit disturbed by Majik's coldness. The last time she had been fine with it, had been able to put up with it, but his life force had been unnaturally strong, like a vampire that had overdosed on blood the night before...  
  
  
_

  
  
"I have a question."  
  
Cleao looked up from the program she was watching, glancing around nervously for Majik before her eyes rested on the one that had spoken. Azalea stared back, chin in her hand, red eyes dark and thoughtful. "Yes?" asked the blonde softly whilst she mentally reached out to make sure Majik was nowhere within telepathic range. He had said he was stepping out for a while, but it was hard for Cleao to detect his presence sometimes.  
  
The mage smiled at her gently, putting the other vampire at ease. "Do you hate Majik?"  
  
Cleao hadn't been expecting that. "Majik? No. Of course not. Why?"  
  
"Because," an obviously male voice said, carrying over from the windowsill the body it belonged to was perched on. "He's a cold bastard that obviously has hurt you before."  
  
Cleao said nothing at first, but when she spoke her voice was firm. "I don't hate him. He has fought me and won, and this is the price I have to pay for what I did to him. It's only fair, and he's not nearly as horrible to me as he could be. I'm grateful."  
  
"But still," said Adrial when his mage partner said nothing in response to that. "It's horrible, isn't it? You're only still recovering from a recent injury, aren't you?"  
  
The vampire smiled faintly. A remarkable thing about elves was they had a sixth sense about things like that. They could pinpoint the heart of a battlefield, whether still going on or not, from nearly anywhere in the world. They were normally peaceful, but their healing powers and songs were very potent. Azalea was lucky to be paired with an elf, especially such a cunning one as Adrial.  
  
Cleao touched the rib beneath her breast. "He did kick me a couple days ago," she admitted. "But I recovered just fine overnight."  
  
"Overnight?" Azalea asked, sounding puzzled. "It takes Majik days to recover from injuries; I know that."  
  
The older but very much younger-seeming female sighed. "That's because he doesn't feed regularly," she explained. "Virtually, vampires are useless, worthless without human blood. We'd just be corpses. Majik hates feeding, so he either has me get some easy prey for him once or twice a week, or he doesn't drink at all."  
  
"That's awfully strange for a vampire," said Adrial cynically, tossing his shimmering blue hair over his tiny shoulder.  
  
"When was the last time he fed?" asked Azalea.  
  
Cleao shrugged, turning off the television and leaning back into the couch, her eyelids coming down to shield cloudy ice blue. She seemed tired, but she was also the type to feed regularly, so this was most likely a sign of stress, or weariness. "I don't remember. I'm quite certain he went out last night, but--"  
  
"Didn't that witch say," the elf interrupted, raising a fine eyebrow, "that a dead body had been found last night? A very mutilated, very bloody, very drained one, at that?"  
  
"Adrial," said Azalea sharply, and her partner fell silent.  
  
Cleao, however, wasn't fazed. "Majik wouldn't kill."  
  
"He--" started Adrial, but was interrupted.  
  
"Majik is a bastard, I know," said Cleao, opening her eyes again. "But he wouldn't kill. Trust me." She nibbled on her lower lip, sighing softly. "Not after that time... No, he'd never kill. Not Majik..."  
  
The elf shot Azalea an exasperated look, but the mage wasn't sure what to think. She knew virtually nothing about the smaller vampire, just that he used to belong to Cleao instead of the vice versa. She also knew he was quick, intelligent, a good actor, and was hiding something that seemed very important. She had seen a look similar to his in another's eyes before, and though she had nearly managed to stop the other from corruption, Majik...  
  
Well, that could wait for later musings. Azalea finished the rest of her coffee, polishing the last of her warm Cinnabun off before she stood. "It's been nice talking to you again, Cleao. Come, Adrial."  
  
The pixie-ish elf wrinkled his nose, but obliged. "You'd better watch after yourself," he was saying to Cleao as the door opened silently. He took no heed of it, obviously not having heard it. Elves had enhanced hearing, but though useful, Adrial was arrogant and rarely used them, saying he was already powerful enough to not need to pay attention to little things like sounds. "That boy's unstable, you see, I can tell. He may kill you or someone else at this rate--"  
  
"Oh, would I?"  
  
Adrial stiffened, floating around Azalea's head nervously as he turned to face Majik, who was giving him a sickeningly sweet smile. Azalea was obviously trying not to laugh, from the way her lips were twitching.  
  
"Poor Adrial," said Majik, his smile plastered in place. Had his fangs not been sharpening before the elf's very eye, he _may have been fooled by the calm exterior. "You're so loud and rude, so unkind... I do hope no one will miss you if you just so happen to die suddenly."  
  
"Now, Majik," said Azalea, quickly coming to her partner's rescue, even though she found the situation amusing. "I need him. Partners are hard to come by, after all, even if they are pompous jerks."  
  
Majik snarled for a moment, but then his fangs retracted and his aqua eyes slid shut. "Tch. What should I care about a stupid prat like that, anyway?" When he opened his eyes again, the silver pupils were back to a normal human black. "Please come by anytime, Azalea. Particularly this weekend, if you don't mind."  
  
"Why this weekend?" she asked while Adrial quickly flew to hide in her hair.  
  
Majik shrugged, obviously not wanting to reveal any information around Adrial. "Oh, you know... Things." He lowered his eyes briefly, his pale hand reaching out to stroke hers. Azalea stared; if she didn't know any better, she would have thought Majik was coming on to her...  
  
But then she heard a barely audible snarl from Adrial, saw the flicker of aqua again, and stifled a snicker. Majik was intentionally pissing off the elf, it seemed. Though they rarely interacted, Majik and Adrial never had got along well.  
  
"This weekend, then," Azalea agreed, patting him on the head. "See you then."  
  
Cleao grabbed the remote and turned it on, staring intently at the television until Azalea and Adrial had left. When Majik simply stood where he was, expression blank, she raised her eyes and said, "That was unnecessary."  
  
"So?" He came to life at her voice, eyes sparking dangerously as he looked up. "That's none of your concern. Just be ready this weekend. Find a costume."  
  
"Why?"  
  
His smile was falsely pleasant, and it gave Cleao cold chills. He was getting more creepy by the day, it seemed, and Adrial did have a point... Majik had just so happened to have chosen to feed the same night that girl had been mutilated beyond immediate recognition. It was either an uncanny coincidence, or the work of a Demon. Cleao was desperately hoping for the latter, bad as it was.  
  
A murdering Majik was even more frightening, in her opinion.  
  
"Because, dear sister," he said slowly, "we're going out."  
  
She stared. "Out?" she echoed, very much aware that she sounded stupid to the younger vampire.  
  
He gazed at her, his expression almost dreamy. "Yes, Cleao. Out. To a costume party... On business." Majik's eyes narrowed sharply suddenly. "Azalea will be coming with us, as will Adrial. He'll be useful, much as I hate to admit it," he added bitterly.  
  
Cleao couldn't see why, but she decided not to remark. "What are you going as?"  
  
Majik blinked twice before he giggled, a high-pitched sound that made Cleao bite her lip to stifle a childish whimper. "Oh, you'll see. I want it to be a surprise..."  
  
Majik and surprises? This was not, Cleao decided as he disappeared into his room, a good sign at all._


	6. Chapter Five

**:: Illusions ::**  
  
_~Sorcerous Stabber Orphen~_  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Sorcerous Stabber Orphen or any of the characters. Rights go to Akita Sadanobu and ADVision.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairings: Orphen+Kevin(Majik), past Majik+Cleao  
  
Warnings: AU, language, shounen ai/yaoi, angst, Majik being creepy (a warning in itself)  
  
Notes: At the moment, D-chan is struggling with her playlist in regards to which songs to listen to. .; 'Tis driving her nuts...  
  
But I got good feedback on the Hartia-fic, which makes me happy. ^^; Now Mina-sensei made me want to do a piece on Orphen's view of the same scene... grr! No, I must resist. I have too much to work on.  
  
Anyway, D-chan also finally saw episode 24 of Evangelion (skipping 20 episodes to do so .;). Ack! Poor Kowaru-sama! Poor Shinji! It was so cute and sweet and beautiful while it lasted. Rei freaks me out. Asuka's weird. And Shinji's father's a bastard...  
  
  


  
  
"You can't!"  
  
"Don't tell me what I can and can't do."  
  
"But... But... It's--"  
  
"Weird? Conspicuous? Different?" Majik scowled, narrowing his seemingly childish, innocent eyes until it was easy to see he was no child, no innocent. Despite his outward appearances, he was so different-- Cleao felt she should know that best of all, after having spent two hundred years with him. But he was always surprising her, and this...  
  
She sighed, biting her lip. She didn't dare go completely against him, and she knew the only reason he was holding back from hurting her was because they would be leaving soon. Even at a costume party, someone was bound to notice real bruises and blood. "It's... It's certainly different," she admitted. "But..." Her voice trailed off.  
  
The smaller vampire shrugged, smirking slightly as he glanced in a mirror, surveying his image. "I think it's brilliant," he said cooly. "And I'm sure people with a sense of _humor_ will get a kick out of it."  
  
Cleao tugged on a blonde curl fretfully. She was dressed as a fair warrior, though she had been going for the image of Joan of Arc. The soft fabric and clean appearance ruined the tough effect, but she was appropriately dressed for the evening. "It's just that we're supposed to blend in," she mumbled, eyes downcast, preparing for a hit of some sort.  
  
Majik did nothing at first, but when he moved it was to glare at her and say, "I think we blend in a little _too_ well. At school it's fine, but once in a while we need to make it appear we have a personality, Cleao. Don't forget that."  
  
"Yes..." She watched as he smoothed the front of his costume. "But... Doesn't the fur bother you? That's not real, is it?" she added suspiciously.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," he answered. "It's a simple costume I'm borrowing. I just made it a little scarier than usual."  
  
"Majik, a white rabbit drenched in blood isn't considered a _little scarier."  
  
The other vampire laughed, baring his fangs. "It's my first time to enjoy myself in a long hundred years or so. Let me."  
  
Cleao sighed again. "I thought we were going to gather information on Killiranshelo?"  
  
"We are. And while we're there, I plan in enjoying myself by terrorizing a few people."  
  
He was awfully cheerful, Cleao realized. In fact, she hadn't seen him this happy since the night she killed him against his will. Maybe it would be good for him to revel in his twisted idea of fun, just this once... Didn't he deserve it? Didn't he _more_ than deserve it?  
  
Cleao sighed, closing her eyes in clear resignation. She felt a glimmer of Majik's satisfaction before the boy turned away. "Get the keys. We're leaving now."  
  
"But Azalea and Adrial--"  
  
"Will be meeting us there," he cut in. For a moment she could feel his irritation, but then that was covered again. He was so confusing lately, and it was beginning to frustrate her the way he kept his thoughts hidden. Cleao shook her head, looking around for her keys.  
  
  
_

  
  
It was crowded-- and Majik hated crowds almost as much as he hated feeding.  
  
The blonde boy grimaced, sidestepping a swaying teenager dressed like an armadillo. And Cleao had said _his_ costume was strange.  
  
He couldn't take it. He hadn't fed in days, and all of the fresh life was driving him nuts. And he had yet to catch sight of or sense Azalea, which meant she was _late._ At his orders, Cleao had disappeared to the other side of the house -- it was a small house, but commendable for someone without parents or siblings -- and he hadn't seen or heard from her since. In some ways that was a plus, but in others...  
  
Determined to focus only on waiting for and finding Azalea and Adrial, Majik ignored the irritating music and headed for the stairs. Somewhere, he was sure, he could find a window that led to the roof. He could both wait for Azalea there _and_ avoid all these humans. It seemed perfect to him.  
  
With that in mind, Majik nearly tripped over a couple sprawled on the floor, wrinkling his nose. _'Disturbing... Just... Ugh.'_ It wasn't the concept or the act itself, it was just that if they wanted to have sex or foreplay, Majik preferred _not to watch.  
  
He found a mostly empty room, devoid of even furniture, and was pleased to find a window. The lock stuck, but soon he had it open and was peering out. There was a tree, so he had to be careful when climbing it-- splinters hurt like hell. Exhaling to steady himself, Majik crawled out, grasping a somewhat sturdy branch that was almost out of his reach. He was lucky; Majik was slim, had been even before the change, and light in weight. He easily hoisted himself up, briefly sensing and looking for anyone within his vision, and when it seemed clear he jumped to the roof.  
  
It was much more pleasant up here; the air was cool in comparison to the heat of packed bodies inside. He could still hear the music, thrumming in time to his deadening heartbeat. Weakness of having not fed in several days was hurting him, but until the night was over he would hold out. He __had to.  
  
He heard a noise that sounded like hands scrabbling over roof tiles, but he pretended not to hear it. "Hey! Hey, Kevin!"  
  
_'Weird human,'_ thought Majik, but he feigned surprise as he turned to face Orphen, who was grinning broadly as he hoisted himself up and scooted over. "Orphen... Hello."  
  
The brunette stared at him for a moment, then gave a short bark of laughter. "Nice costume," he said, tugging on the fake bunny ears. "Where'd you get the idea? Reminds me of __Monty Python and the Holy Grail... Do you like that movie? I thought it was hilarious. You have a similar sense of humor."  
  
The blonde vampire couldn't help but admire how much he could say in less than thirty seconds. "No, I never saw that movie," he said politely. "I just wanted to do something different."  
  
Orphen's grin never faded. "Well, I think you succeeded." Then he lay down, stretching his long legs comfortably before turning his gaze upwards. "Funny. I throw this great party--" Majik raised an eyebrow, "--and I have the unexplainable urge to come up here. And here __you are."  
  
The blonde leaned forward, turning his aqua-coloured gaze away from the young man. He could feel his fangs sharpening, and though he was sure no one would think them real, he didn't want to take any chances. Maybe Azalea would be a willing donor; she'd done it a couple times before, and he knew he could control himself around her. But a random human...  
  
"You make a cute bunny, you know."  
  
Majik started. That _had_ been unexpected. He finally turned to the tall youth, frowning. If he had still been human, if he hadn't changed so much over two hundred years, no doubt he would have blushed from a simple compliment. But he was __not who he was back then, he was different... But it was still strange and almost embarrassing. "Excuse me?"  
  
Orphen smirked. "Even with the blood and fangs. You're a cute bunny."  
  
Majik tensed, already catching a glimmer of what the brunette was thinking. He didn't have bad intentions, Majik knew, and if anything he couldn't understand why he was acting the way he was. It made Majik suspicious more than apprehensive, because Orphen didn't seem the type to act completely without thinking. That, and he was almost _certain_ he sensed a Demon-like presence...  
  
"Well, you almost make a decent vampire," replied Majik, commenting for the first time upon Orphen's own guise.  
  
"Almost? I think I'm offended."  
  
The blonde shook his head, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "I say almost, because most vampires don't have such a nice tan. They're pale, and they're better at hiding their emotions the longer they live. You do know, for the first few hundred years or so, they have to protect themselves from sunlight. After some time, only then can they actually go out into the rays without receiving a burn."  
  
Orphen blinked, mahogany eyes almost black in the night air. "You seem to know an awful lot about such a strange subject."  
  
The blonde flashed him a sweet, not entirely false smile. "I'm a big fan."  
  
"You don't seem the type."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
Now he could most _definitely_ sense a Demon's presence. But Majik was dead sure it wasn't coming from Orphen; no, it seemed to be from downstairs... And why hadn't Cleao felt it yet? It was closer to her area. Why wasn't she doing something? Majik made a note to berate her later.  
  
Orphen pushed himself back into a sitting position, giving Majik a long, searching look. Starlight drenched his hair, setting half of his face in shadow, but still Majik did not react. Supposedly he should have been amazed to be talking to him, for Orphen to be addressing him as cute, though he was a freshman and _male._ But, as strange as the thought was, Majik was much more interested in Killiranshelo than Orphen-- because Orphen was only a human, and Killiranshelo was a Demon.  
  
Needless to say, he had no purpose for the mortal... But he wasn't about to go __against anything Orphen had in mind either. It seemed that the longer he talked to him, the stronger the Demon's presence grew.  
  
Orphen tugged again at the fake, paint-splattered ears flopping from Majik's head. "It's weird," he murmured. "This is right out of a bad story, you know?"  
  
Majik almost smirked, but tried to hide it. Surely it would throw his image off, and he wasn't in a hurry to do _that_ if he could help it. Damn Cleao; she was rubbing off on him. "Why? Because you want to kiss me, even though I'm a guy and you only like girls?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
That had also been a surprise. Most people would have denied it; girls would have turned away, blushing and stammering that they had been delusional or some other weak excuse. So it seemed Orphen was more honest, even as he hid behind a huge wall of secrets.  
  
So it wasn't strange, then, that Majik put up no resistance when the brunette placed a hand behind his head, drawing him close and pressing a chaste kiss to the boy's lips. Majik grew excited, realizing that the Demon was drawing closer, his power rising to an almost explosive point... Was he really so crazy that he wanted to meet Killiranshelo so desperately?  
  
Perhaps.  
  
He knew Orphen was taken by surprise when the blonde gripped the taller youth's shoulders in a pinching hold, purposefully deepening the kiss, but the experimental move had proven his theory right. The closer he got to Orphen, the more he thought about him, the closer Killiranshelo drew.  
  
Which meant this stupid human was actually a good tool for something.  
  
Right on cue there was an explosive sound that made the house tremble upon its foundations. Orphen jerked free, both confused and startled. "What the... What the hell was that?!" Without a second glance to the strangely smiling blonde, he scrambled off the roof and shimmied down the tree. A strange giggle passed Majik's lips.  
  
_'Cleao, did you feel that?'_  
  
After a few brief moments, she replied. _'Yes.'_  
  
She sounded strangely subdued. Majik frowned, but decided to put it aside for later musings. _'It was a Demon's power, wasn't it? What does it look like down there?'_  
  
_'Not as pretty as on the roof, I'm sure.'_  
  
Ah, so she had sensed what had been going on. Rather than snap at her for the smart-ass remark, Majik decided to join the chaos downstairs.  
  
Azalea was there, thankfully. Majik pressed past the mob of people, kicking one girl in the shins that dared to shove him. He finally pulled the mage aside and ignoring Adrial perched on her shoulder, hissed, "Where have you been?"  
  
"Me?" Azalea raised an eyebrow. "I've been here for almost twenty minutes. Where were _you_?"  
  
_'On the roof...'_ Majik didn't voice the thought, knowing he would have to explain why he hadn't been focused on sensing her. And now that he thought about it, it __was embarrassing. Maybe it was a good thing he hadn't fed, otherwise all the blood would have gone to his face. "Never mind that. The Demon disappeared when I came in, anyway. Damn him!" he exploded, slamming a balled fist into the palm of his hand. "We were so close!"  
  
Behind him appeared Cleao, and from there the four had to wriggle their way outside to find a place to talk. That place was found on the sidewalk. Amazingly enough, no one inside was worried enough to leave, so they had their privacy. "Cleao," the smaller vampire snapped. "Why the hell didn't you tell me when Killiranshelo's signal flared up?"  
  
Cleao gave him a puzzled look. "Signal? I didn't sense him at all."  
  
That halted everything. Majik stared at her in disbelief; was she slipping? "The Demon, Cleao," he said with tried patience. "The one we've been searching for. You know, _that_ signal? I felt it just a few minutes ago, and I thought the sheer force of it would make _me_ explode!"  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Adrial drawled from his safe spot on Azalea's shoulder. "But I didn't sense anything, either. Maybe you're finally cracking, Oh Amazing One."  
  
"Adrial, hold your tongue," said Azalea sharply. The elf fell silent, but gave the youngest vampire a smug look.  
  
It didn't make any sense. If Cleao hadn't sensed him, if __Adrial hadn't sensed him, then why had Majik? Was it because Orphen was the link somehow, and he had been nearest to him? Majik sank to the ground, eyes wide but pupils very small as he stared at the ground without seeing it. Pale fingers mussed his own hair, and everything was just so... unreal.  
  
_'It's scary,'_ he thought dimly, __'when what you want more than anything else in the world is to have an intelligent conversation with your enemy. Just for the sake of holding on to some form of sanity...'  
  
  
_

  
  
Though tired, his eyes were hungry and greedy as he watched the sharp silver knife slide across Azalea's pale forearm. She had to sit down beside him and hold her arm up before he could find the strength to grab her, pressing his lips around the wound and sucking gently. The mage flinched, but didn't complain. This was a donation, and Majik so clearly needed it.  
  
When he was satisfied, Majik released her arm, collapsing against the couch and running his tongue over his teeth. He could feel his heart moving again, pumping fresh blood through his deadened veins. It felt good.  
  
Azalea grimaced, flexing her wrist in a strange attempt to quell the pain. "How long has it been since you last fed?"  
  
Majik closed his eyes, content. "Mm... Almost a week, I think. Five days tops..."  
  
"What?!"  
  
He ignored Cleao's outburst, though his eyes did lazily slit open. It still puzzled him that only he had felt the Demon's presence, and somehow the excuse of Orphen being a link didn't completely work. It was another one of those gut feelings where he knew something was off, he just couldn't figure out for the undead life of him _what_ it was.  
  
"I have a question."  
  
Majik scowled. Answering any of Adrial's questions was one of the last things he'd rather be doing, and if he didn't detest the taste of elven blood so much he would have shoved the stupid creature into his mouth whole. "What?"  
  
"You said you could sense Killiranshelo," said Adrial lazily, propping his chin on the heel of his hand. He seemed quite comfortable on Azalea's shoulder, not to mention it was the safest place he could be at the current moment. Majik rarely attacked Azalea just to get to the annoying pipsqueak. "But none of us could. I wonder, what were you doing at the time?"  
  
The boy hesitated in answering, shooting Cleao a sharp glance. She avoided the gaze, seeming to be very interested in the outside scenery. _'Say nothing,' he ordered silently, just to be safe. Then he turned back to the others.  
  
"You want a recount?" he asked scornfully.  
  
"Is it a problem?" smirked Adrial. "After all, you're a vampire. You have better memory than any being alive, sans the great elf."  
  
And the great elf was full of bullshit, in Majik's opinion. But he chose to bite his tongue regarding that subject. "Well, I had to leave so I wouldn't bite anyone," he murmured. "So I went to the roof. I was waiting for Azalea to come, and then that bothersome human--"  
  
"Which one?"  
  
The blonde glared at the tiny elf. "The one that invited me. Orphen, I think it was." He could tell Adrial didn't buy his aloof act, but he didn't care. The elf was overly suspicious of everyone, anyway. "Anyway, he came on the roof, tried to talk to me, and then I sensed him. It grew stronger and stronger until that explosion-- what __was that, anyway?"  
  
Azalea smiled easily. "They believe a fuse blew in that boy's stereo system. I saw some strange marks, though... Majik's right. A Demon was there-- whether it was Killiranshelo or not is the real question."  
  
"It was him," Majik said confidently. "I'm sure of it."  
  
"How can you be so sure?" asked Adrial cynically.  
  
The vampire shot him a not-so-nice smile. "Because," he said silkily, "I saw him. I felt him that night. I sense him sometimes at the school, and I sensed him tonight. He's _here._ He hasn't gone anywhere. Demons can _hide_ their powers, divert our attention, but his was open-- blatant." A pale hand came up to smooth moonbeam-kissed strands from his eyes. "And since none of you have ever seen or met or directly sensed him before, all you __have to rely on is me."  
  
"And what an unreliable source," sneered Adrial.  
  
Majik was silent for the longest of times, staring at Azalea oddly. "Sometimes I pity you," he told her, sounding surprisingly sympathetic.  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "Pardon? Why?"  
  
"Because..." He reached out to tuck a stray lock of her violet hair behind her ear, his eyes focused on her. "You have to put up with __this idiot." The moment he emphasized the word, he switched tactics, grabbing Adrial and jerking him away before he could utter his undignified squawk.  
  
"Hey, hey," Azalea said mildly as the vampire proceeded to choke the lavender-skinned elf. "I need him. Don't kill him."  
  
Scowling, Majik dropped Adrial very unkindly to the floor. "Keep your mouth shut," he snarled. "If I want your two cents, I'll ask for it."  
  
On the floor, Adrial was nursing bruised ribs. "Stupid bastard," he spat as his partner gently picked him up. "One day your actions will come back to bite you in the ass."  
  
When Majik looked at him, his aqua eyes were dark and blank, his pupils having dilated to the point of not existing. It gave the creepy impression that he was looking somewhere the others couldn't see, even though to a vampire it only meant they were in the midst of a change. His fangs flashed when he spoke softly. "They already are."  
  
Silence settled over the small group, coating them like sticky fog. "Well, then," said Azalea after a while. "You two may not need to sleep, but I do. We'll be going now-- and in the future, Majik," she added, expression softening momentarily. "Do try to feed more often."  
  
"Yes," he replied, deadpan.  
  
The red-eyed mage smiled kindly at Cleao, a flicker of sympathy in her lovely eyes. "Good night."  
  
"Travel safely," replied the curly-haired blonde. Adrial was still looking sullen, petting his blue hair to comfort himself as his partner carried him out the door. The silence that followed was less tense, but thicker than the last. Cleao shifted restlessly, finally turning on the television for some sound.  
  
The noise of Comedy Central floated in the room, but no laughter from either vampire came forth. Surprisingly, Majik stayed, watching with a calm and acceptance that was almost disturbing. Nothing was said, nothing was even thought between the two as the night wore on into daybreak. There was just quiet, TV, and underlying, thrumming tension that both were desperately trying to ignore.  
  
Later though, a thought occurred to Majik. He was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, watching the silver of silver light across the whiteness. It tapered off to a point, much in the way his scar had before it had healed. It was gone now, nothing but smooth, milky flesh in its place, but he dimly remembered Cleao's noticing it. She was bright; sharp. She sensed things...  
  
But earlier she had said that she had *not* sensed Killiranshelo, yet when he'd asked...  
  
_'Oi. Cleao.'_  
  
_'Yes?'_  
  
She was clearly hiding something, and while he understood, it still irritated Majik. _'You lied to me.'_  
  
_'I know.'_  
  
No denial, then? At least she was being honest. Majik closed his eyes, scowling. _'Why?'_  
  
_'Because you kissed that human. I was upset.'_  
  
_'Why should you be upset? Over him? He's just a human; it meant nothing. He's a tool. Over me? I hate you.'_  
  
He could feel her flinch, feel her hurt, but he also knew she was telling herself that such words were only what she had deserved. He completely blocked her off then, not wanting to give her the chance to defend herself-- and replaying scenes in his mind he wished would leave him alone.  
  
_'Because... I don't want to remember my lost innocence... Right?'_  
  
  
_

  
  
_The night breeze felt so pleasant on his fever-heated skin. He had been told to stay inside, to rest, to heal, that Demons were about... But Majik felt worse inside that cramped, hot, uncomfortable room. Outside was so pleasant, so cool, so soothing... He felt his lethargy slipping away like raindrops sliding down a wet window.  
  
Young Majik Rin, an ignorant, sweet, gentle little boy, had grown into a still-chaste, kind fourteen-and-a-half year old male.  
  
Of course, pretty boys that were virginal in any way possible -- in **every way possible -- were the undead's favourite victims.  
  
He hadn't been surprised at first to see her there, smiling and beckoning. He knew her well, or so he'd thought-- she was the pretty new girl, the one without parents, the one who sacrificed so much just to live. She had his idol; he wanted to be like her. He loved her, even.  
  
Majik's biggest mistake had been telling her so.  
  
She had appeared flattered, had smiled and ruffled his silken hair, saying that she thought fondly of him. Those words had lightened his heart, making him all the more blind to the silvery light in her crystalline eyes. After all, such a strange look could have just been a trick of candlelight, right?  
  
She had beckoned, had called, and he had followed. Heedless to the distant voice of his mother calling, wondering where he had gone, why he had left his room, he had followed her. Groping blindly in the increasing dark, all he had was her soft whispers and footsteps as a guide. But he didn't mind. He trusted her. Majik easily placed his trust in those he loved. And he loved her.  
  
But the question should have been, did she love him?  
  
It was no wonder no one heard his shrieks as sharp fangs slid into his tender throat. No wonder she had led him so far away. No wonder she had looked so demonic and stunningly gorgeous in the moonlight, more so than even his mother, whom he had once told was the most beautiful woman in the world. He would never disobey his mother, his father, his parents...  
  
And he had, for this girl. What had he gotten for it? Death. His punishment was everlasting death... And he would have to survive off people just like he had once been. His parents. His family. His loved ones.  
  
The first time he saw that beautiful, crimson-coloured life staining his hands, he had vowed to hate her forever. She was no longer beautiful in his eyes; she was twisted, cruel, evil. She made the sun turn on him, made him into a small, weak, helpless, pale little boy. She had made him his slave. Not even her tears, her cries, her tormented thoughts and pain could make up for it.  
  
Nothing could make up for what he had lost. Nothing. She had taken the one thing he had wanted from life, and that was life itself. To breathe. To taste. To touch, hold, feel, to absorb sunlight, to play in flower fields without care, to help his father and someday have a family just like his own: normal; perfect.  
  
Cleao had stripped it all from him, and Majik never forgave her for it.  
**_  
  


  
  
The vampire gazed at his hands, holding his arms up. The first time he had discovered he was such a horrid animal he had tried to slit his wrists. He hadn't scarred, much to his shock and anger. His body refused to be anything but perfect, and even if he drained himself of all blood he wouldn't die. He would be a living corpse.  
  
How could humans love vampires so much? How could they take such a "novel" concept so easily? Did they not understand how hard it was? They had to be blend in, for fear of being killed. They had to act normal, appear normal, _be_ normal... And these humans were the ones that set standards for _normal_?  
  
Majik could see why Flameheart would want control over the Demons now. This time around, the Dark Ones would be the rulers. The magic-users, the undead, the Demons would set the laws. They would decide who was and was not worthy to be breathing their air.  
  
He understood. That didn't mean he completely liked it.  
  
His body couldn't be imperfect. He was a model; he was gorgeous, very feminine, and acted sweet-- Majik was perfect.  
  
So why, then, did he hate himself so much? Why did he hate himself to the point that he only put up with this cursed life to punish himself, rather than drive a stake through his heart? Why not just soak in gasoline or alcohol and then set fire to himself? Why not die a horrible death of having a million toothpicks shoved through his body until the blood drained from him completely and the wood ate at his very flesh?  
  
_'Does he understand? He would know, wouldn't he?'_ Majik sighed, letting his arms fall to the bed. _'What life do you live? What thoughts weave your Demon mind? Are we completely different or exactly alike? Do you loathe the half-life you live?'  
  
That was why he had to talk to him. That was why Majik so desperately needed to speak with him, even if it was only for a few minutes before the Demon bit his head off. He needed the ideal being to spill his pain-riddled soul into. Whether he received empathy, sympathy, or cold laughter in return, he didn't care. He just needed _someone_. He'd always needed someone.  
  
_'Obsession? Perhaps...'_  
  
Or would it be Killiranshelo that spilt his soul into Majik as the vampire's hands tightened around his throat, crushing his windpipe? Would he be the one to learn the secrets? He had to find out. He had to find him...  
  
He had to speak with Orphen again, as soon as humanly possible._


	7. Chapter Six

**:: Illusions ::**  
_~Sorcerous Stabber Orphen~_  
Disclaimer: I don't own Sorcerous Stabber Orphen or any of the characters. Rights go to Sawada Hajime, Akita Yoshinobu and ADVision.  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairings: Orphen+Kevin(Majik), Azalea/Childman  
Warnings: AU, OOCness, language, shounen ai/yaoi, angst  
Notes: You know what a really pretty song is? Besides pretty much all the .hack//Sign songs, it's "Yume no Hakoniwa" by Omi Minami. I swear, I keep thinking I have all her songs and then I find a new one... It's nice. ^_^ I can always picture Majik singing...  
*cough* Yes, well. Putting fangirl comments aside, I have yet _another_ reccomendation. Possibly two. If I haven't promoted Mina-sensei's "Speaking Without Words" then I shall do so now; read it, and then read, "Call of Blood." It's based heavily on all her SSO fics so far and promises to be great-- so go read. Go read it now.  
Sigh. I love this song. It's so creepily peaceful...  
  


  
  
Shadows danced across the barren walls, rising and falling as the waves in the ocean. The house was dark enough so that only one of the two figures could be made out, but should any lights be on, certain people would notice two beings there.  
Azalea's eyes grazed the place, her lips pursing in distaste. It was a mess, not having been cleaned since the last ruckus had been made. But then again, that was just like a guy. With that thought in mind she moved on, slinking along cat-quietly.  
Only the front door had been sealed; the one room she was searching for had been left ajar, unlocked. It made sense. After all, he wasn't expecting anyone to jump him if his front door was locked. For a mage like her such things were easy to get around with a simple spell and trick or two, which only made her angry. He should be more careful; one of his windows had been left wide open!  
Azalea glided across the floor, sinking down on the bed where he slept. His hair was mussed, strands clinging to the sweat dampening his face. His eyebrows were stitched in troubled sleep and she pitied him.  
Adrial had been silent for quite some time, which was unnatural for him. But he finally spoke up as she smoothed hair back from the slumbering teen's face. "We shouldn't be here. If Flameheart finds out--"  
"I know," she whispered. "But I worry. It's dangerous to leave him here alone."  
"As long as the vampire brat keeps his hands off him, everything should be fine."  
Azalea sighed, drawing her hand back. "That's why I'm worried. Majik is intent on finding Killiranshelo... Cleao told me what was going on, up there on the roof. They kissed, Adrial."  
The elf scowled. "That's disturbing."  
"And then Majik felt a surge of power, an explosion..." Azalea trailed off, frowning in thought. "He knows."  
Adrial's eyes widened momentarily, but the surprise left them soon enough. "No, not even he can put the pieces together _that easily."  
The mage smiled, rising from her sitting position. "Ah, so you recognize him for what he is."  
The tiny elf snorted, allowing his voice to raise a bit as they left. "I'm not stupid. I know he's brilliant, and that's what irritates me so much. He could rival you, you know."  
"If only he were of magic descent. He would be a potent weapon indeed."  
As they talked, Azalea stopped by the room she had seen earlier. She shut the window, moving the lock into place. She was sure she had made it purposefully stick the last time, but Majik had gotten around that problem, it seemed. She could do it again, but it was bothersome and did hurt her thumb.  
Adrial was quiescent until they were outside again. "As I was saying before, I doubt we need worry. If we can keep him away from Killiranshelo a bit longer we should be able to subdue him ourselves."  
"It's not subduing Killiranshelo we should be concerned with," said Azalea grimly.  
"Oh, I do agree."  
Both mage and elf started at the new voice. It was light, sweet, and female. Azalea turned to see a petite witch before her-- she knew the girl was a witch by the sacred beads around her neck and the wolf's head imprinted between the swell of her breasts. She recognized her from a few days back; she was the witch Majik had dismissed. But she was without her carrot-top partner.  
The pretty brunette smiled, her brown eyes warm. "I'm sorry. Did I startle you?"  
"Not at all," said Adrial pompously.  
Azalea, however, said, "Just a bit, yes. Is there a reason you had to follow us?"  
The witch shook her head, soft waves spilling over her shoulders with the movement. "Please, don't misunderstand. I was simply passing by this way and I happened to overhear your conversation." She smiled again. "You speak of our world so openly into the night. It's a bit unwise, if you will forgive me." There was no mockery in her voice, and Azalea had the distinct impression that she should know this young lady.  
"Are you of Childman's children?" she asked curiously, tipping her head to the side.  
The girl bowed her head in respect. "So you are Mistress Azalea. Please forgive my intrusion."  
Adrial made a face as Azalea told her not to worry about it. "Are we going to practice our manners and formality all night or are we going to find out why the hell she's eavesdropping?" he snapped sourly. "And why do you agree that Killiranshelo Finrandi shouldn't be our first priority? In case you didn't notice, he *killed* that girl you spoke of the other day."  
The witch shook her head. "He _may_ have killed her," she corrected. "For all we know, it was the attack of an unstable creature-- perhaps one of our own."  
Adrial stared. "Majik?"  
"Who are you?" inquired Azalea, hackles rising at the mere insinuation. How could she have let herself be so open with this girl? Something strange was underway.  
"Fiena of the Deep Dragons," answered the small female. "May I speak with you? Majik already knows of what I wish to tell you," she added before either partner could agree or decline. "And you may, as well. But I would like to speak with you anyway."  
Azalea stared at Fiena, her red eyes narrowed and lips taut. After a few agonizing moments, she stiffly nodded.  
"Azalea!" protested Adrial.  
"It won't be easy protecting them both," snapped the mage. "One of them very may well die. I need as much information as I can get, otherwise I'll have to choose... Majik or Orphen? Who should live, who should die? Lead," she commanded, addressing Fiena last.  
The witch smiled faintly. "As you wish, Mistress Azalea."  
  
_

  
Well. This was certainly a first.  
Majik blinked, tipping his head to the side. Blonde hair fell in his eyes, but he didn't bother brushing it away. He blinked again... And slowly smirked.  
Actually, he found it amusing. One pale finger moved to trace over the messy scrawled words. As far as graffiti went, it was really bad. It was simply there to convey a message, a message that was simple and clear: Stay away from him.  
_'I gladly would, if he wasn't so convenient,'_ thought Majik, who then proceeded to open his locker and take out the books he would need for his first two classes. Humans were stupid, but at the same time amusing. They grew jealous so easily over nothing-- though Majik _was_ wondering how they had found out so quickly. Orphen didn't seem the type to run around telling people he'd kissed a freshman wearing a bunny suit-- a seemingly bloodstained one at that.  
Then again, he didn't seem the type to do that in the first place. It bothered Majik, because if he lost his connection with the strange human, he lost his best chance of finding Killiranshelo that much faster.  
Now angry, he threw his belongings back inside, grabbing his coat and slamming his locker door shut. He didn't care there was a noticeable dent, and he didn't care that some people had seen. He was simply angry, likely without good reason, and he wasn't in the mood to put up with this. Ignoring the calls from people that liked to think they knew him, Majik stormed out.  
Outside he felt slightly more at ease. There wasn't a flood of numbingly primitive thoughts attempting to kill him. There was more space, more room... Majik was beginning to think he was claustrophobic. He exhaled heavily and began to walk, only to be stopped moments later by a voice he would have preferred not to hear at the current moment.  
"Kevin? Where're you going?"  
_'__I am going to **kill** Cleao for choosing that stupid name,' the blonde thought angrily. He didn't bother smiling as he turned to look at the catlike eyes, his expression mostly devoid of emotion.  
Orphen blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden change. He stared, seeming to be trying to think of something to say, but couldn't.  
"Going?" asked Majik calmly. "I was thinking somewhere away from all these people."  
"_You _skip?"  
The taller youth's expression was too priceless. Majik couldn't resist smiling, just a little bit. "Looks can be deceiving. So can first impressions. Life is a mess of illusions, Orphen. It's a smart person that picks them out and survives through the lies."  
The brunette continued to stare, dark brows stitching as he appeared to be lost in thought. Majik rocked back on his heels, watching him with vague interest. He had just revealed the stranger side of himself. What would be this boy's reaction? Oh, yes, he was curious.  
At last, Orphen shrugged. "In that case, d'you mind if I join you?"  
"Huh?" Majik put on a front of confusion, despite sensing a deeper thought. He couldn't quite place it at the moment, but he knew there was more to it than the reason the senior gave him.  
"Well, I have a test I'd like to avoid today, anyway." He shrugged, raising his hands to lock behind his head. "So, if you don't mind..."  
Too perfect an opportunity was this for Majik to experiment, to try to bring Killiranshelo forth again. Majik's expression changed, a false smile spreading across his face as he nodded in agreement. Easily ignoring the few curious looks from the scattered students around them, he followed Orphen back toward the student parking lot.  
Barely thirty seconds later an alarmed thought brushed by him. __'Majik...?!'  
_'Have fun today, dear sister,_' he replied silently, watching Orphen glance around quickly before unlocking a used but decent car. Majik didn't comment; material possessions like cars were, to him, simply cover-up items. Whether it was good or not didn't matter to him. __'I'll be playing hooky, though I'm pretty sure I'll find Killiranshelo faster this way.'  
_'But I had to tell you something!_' Her thoughts were desperate, bringing a visible frown to the fifteen-year-old seeming vampire. _'Azalea and Adrial, they contacted me just a short while ago. Azalea says you have to stay away from that human.'_  
"Kevin? Something wrong?"  
Majik closed his eyes, shaking his head. _'Goodbye, Cleao.'_ With that he mentally slammed down the shutters, severing all telepathic ties from his partner.  
"Sorry," he said briefly, climbing into the car after the taller teen. "I just had a thought."  
"Do you not want to skip, then?"  
Majik leaned against the seat heavily, his smile lazy and a bit creepy. He could almost feel the shivers Orphen suppressed. "I never said that. Drive, or I'll walk."  
Orphen didn't argue. He started the ignition and soon enough they were off, out of sight and out of Majik's telepathic reach of his so-called sister. For the first time in two hundred years it suddenly felt like he could breathe. He sighed, aqua eyes closing. He entrusted Orphen into driving them wherever he wished, and had he actually been thinking he would have realized that trusting the human in any way at all was a strange thing for him to do.  
"So... What were you going to do?"  
Majik blinked, his head turning to face the intently driving Orphen. He didn't smile, didn't even smirk, as he replied, "Who knows? Most likely where my feet would have taken me... Though that option seems out of the question," he added dryly.  
The brunette seemed to relax a little. "In that case, do you trust me to take you somewhere?"  
"Yes. On one condition."  
Mahogany eyes glanced at him briefly before turning back to the road. "Yeah? And what's that?" Unlike many teenage boys, Orphen did nothing fancy or "cool" when he drove. Both hands were firmly on the wheel, his eyes were mostly on the road before him, and he didn't keep checking himself in the review mirror. Majik thought it interesting that he could radiate coolness, but he rarely acted a thing like it. At least, not around him.  
"Don't call me by that stupid name. I hate it," he replied.  
Orphen smirked. "By what should I call you, then?" he asked, nasal voice lightly teasing.  
"Majik."  
The brunette considered this a moment, then nodded. "You're right," he agreed, turning left at an intersection. "Majik sounds much better."  
The vampire eyed him, wondering just where they were going and how long it was going to take. Now that he had the chance, he was eager to see if he could draw Killiranshelo near again. _'I want to talk to you,' _he thought fiercely. _'Even if it's just play talk before you kill me, let me **speak with you.'**_  
Majik's eyes flickered to the window, and what he saw made him stiffen. He frowned as Orphen pulled to a stop, unbuckling his seatbelt and practically leaping from the car. Majik slowly followed suit, though with less vigor. He watched as the taller youth stretched, grinning broadly. Majik flinched against the sunlight, but luckily he was wearing a sweatshirt. He quickly moved to a shady area beneath a tree, leaning against the trunk.  
"I'm glad I skipped," Orphen decided suddenly. "This is so much better than being in a cramped classroom with all those preppy weirdos."  
Majik snorted. "You act a lot like them, you know."  
The smile he received in response was an almost sheepish one. Something akin to wicked playfulness flickered in the slanted sienna eyes. "I do, don't I? Am I one?"  
"I don't think that's for me to decide."  
Orphen shrugged, walking over to join him beneath the shade. They were in a park, the very same one Majik had first caught a glimpse of the Demon. That was why he was tense and excited. Somehow he simply felt that being here would enhance the chances and he was desperately eager to call him. If only this human didn't have to be the link, he could do it so much faster!  
"Kevin-- Er, Majik," he corrected himself. "Mind if I ask you something?"  
Majik inwardly growled in frustration, but outwardly simply tilted his head to look up at him. "Go on."  
Orphen hesitated, suddenly seeming uncomfortable. He glanced away, hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. When he finally looked back, there was clear uncertainty in his eyes, even though Majik knew he was trying to hide it. "Is there a reason you kissed me back? You know, the other night?"  
_'If only you knew,_' thought Majik, smiling faintly. "A bit of one, yes. Is there a reason you kissed me first?"  
"God... I don't know." Orphen ran a hand through his hair, disheveling the already messy locks. He was avoiding eye contact again, which only served to annoy Majik further. To avoid attempting to strangle the human, Majik slowly slid to the ground. From time to time he peered through dark golden lashes at the senior.  
"You know," he murmured. "It's not nice to kiss someone just to experiment."  
"That's not it!"  
The vehemence behind the outburst startled the vampire. He blinked twice, and then Orphen was kneeling in front of him, glaring darkly from beneath brown tresses. Majik stared back at him, keeping his expression carefully neutral. "Wasn't it? You said you liked girls. You mistook me for one. If you want to experiment with a guy, the least you could do is find someone that __looks like a guy."  
"I _said,_ that's not it," snapped Orphen. "I don't know why. I felt compelled to-- You're way too attractive for your own good!"  
Inwardly Majik flinched. Words very similar to those had been exactly what had led him down the path of the undead. It was a knife's twist of guilt to remember, a sharp stab of regret to recall all the stupid things he had done in order for it all to happen.  
"Don't blame it on me," he bit back. "It's not my fault, is it? __You made the moves. __You kissed me. I just responded. Was I not supposed to?"  
"I don't know!" A distant part of Majik laughed at the human's childish frustration. Orphen had been right the first time; this was straight out of a bad novel.  
But it did give him the opening he needed, the one he wanted. Majik decided to play upon it. He made his eyes softer as his cold hand reached out to brush across the tanned cheek of his schoolmate. He smiled innocently, bringing his thumb across Orphen's lower lip. "Would it make you feel better if I made the first move this time?"  
He could sense the answer before Orphen could voice it, and even without the affirmation he would have done it. After all, he was doing this for himself, not because he held feelings for the brunette. Majik pushed away from the tree, inwardly wincing as tiny pricks of wood grazed his hand. The pain was forgotten as he drew away from the living thing of his death, pressing a seemingly chaste kiss to Orphen's lips.  
He could feel it then, a faint swell of power. It seemed distant, and that was no good. Majik changed his grip, moving his hand behind the taller boy's neck so he could press closer. Orphen made no objections, even submitted to the act. It was a mild war of dominance until the blonde allowed Orphen to win, and he was resting comfortably on the ground while his senior continued to kiss him in ways Majik was certain girls would be jealous of.  
There it was, that power again. It was stronger, rapidly growing to the acceleration of his undead heartbeat. Majik's breath hitched with excitement, causing Orphen to mistake it for something different. The taller boy shifted position, recapturing Majik's mouth... It was heated... Majik clenched his eyes shut, wild thoughts running through his head... __'Come to me, meet me, see me, I need to see you, come ON...!'  
The power erupted.  
Orphen jumped back, eyes widening as he was taken off his guard. Majik remained still, half dazed, still thinking wildly, willing for the Demon to come to him. _'Killiranshelo, Killiranshelo, Killiranshelo...!'_  
"What the hell?"  
Majik sat up, ignoring Orphen's sputtered comment. He was breathing heavily, his eyes clenched shut, barely aware that the earth was trembling beneath them. _'Killiranshelo, Killiranshelo, Killiranshelo!'_  
It was like stepping into an icy shower. Majik lost the ability to breathe, though he didn't suffocate. A childish whimper escaped his lips and he could hear screams replaying in his head, screams of him as a child, struggling in the clutches of the girl he had been sure he loved. Screaming, crying, struggling...  
_'I see.'_  
Majik swallowed past the choking fear, forcing himself to be brave. __'You...'  
_'Yes, I'm Killiranshelo.'_  
He shook his head, only vaguely aware all his actions were mental and not physical, not happening in the real world. _'You sound so... **young** for a Demon.'_  
_'I am. What the hell do you want?'_ He couldn't see him, but he could sense his actions, or perhaps he was hearing them. In this strange state of mind, where he could see nothing, not even blackness, Majik wasn't sure. __'No, don't answer that. I know. You called me to talk to me. Why--? No, don't answer that either. I see... I see...'  
That was irritating, how he could sense Majik's thoughts before even he could. __'You're just like me, aren't you? If what Fiena says is true... You're working beneath Flameheart.'  
The response he got was similar to the wave of fury he had given Cleao many times. _'No!'_ There was a loud thud, as though something had crashed into solid ground. __'I work beneath no one. Don't mistake me for those other idiots that want to keep their honour! Their **precious honour!'  
It had been more than a hundred years since Majik had been so lost and confused, so long since he had felt like the helpless child he had once been. **__'I don't understand...' And then, for the first time, he got a clear look of the Demon before him. Perhaps he had been too stunned, amazed, and enthralled before, but now he __saw.  
The creature was standing a bit hunched, eyeing Majik warily as though ready to pounce at any given moment. Even if he were to straighten up, Majik guessed he wouldn't be much taller then he, perhaps a couple inches tops. His ears were long and furry, flattened on the side of his head like a kitten before it pounced on the mouse. His hair was wild, the back tips trailing down past the nape it his neck until it tapered off at his shoulder blades. His eyes were wide but currently narrowed, thin eyebrows drawn in suspicion. Half of his brow was hidden beneath a dark red band wrapped once around his head, the tails dancing in the light breeze of the nonexistence place.  
His appearance was almost half human, but there was an unmistakable Demon aura lurking around him. Majik stared at him, eyes dropping to the silver pendant that hung from his neck, resting against a smooth chest. From the flesh below his shoulders to his knuckles was fur the same dark colour of his hair, and from the lower tip of his belly down to his ankles was more fur, shaggy and dirty. Behind him a long, velvety purple tail flicked back and forth, the colour matching the leathery wings that sprouted from his back.  
_'Wow..._' Majik was only half aware the Demon could hear him. _'He's amazing...'_ This was his first time meeting such a young Demon, and there was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to tell him...  
"Majik..."  
Killiranshelo gave him an odd smile, waving his black-clawed fingers. __'You know where to find me now. Good luck.'  
_'No, wait--!'  
"Majik!"_  
The blonde screamed, unintentionally. The rough hands on his shoulders quickly left, and before he opened his turquoise eyes Majik knew he had startled Orphen. The brunette was staring at him in something like worry, but with a mixture of shock and even a little fear as well.  
His head ached. Majik groaned, both hands flying up to keep the pain from splitting his head open. No, that would be messy. No one wanted that. "Ugh," he mumbled.  
Orphen was pulling him into a sitting position. "What happened? Majik?"  
The blonde groaned again, shaking his head-- but that hurt, too. He stopped. "I dunno... You tell me."  
"You collapsed. I thought I was going to have to call the hospital. Should I?"  
"No," Majik said sharply, suddenly. The hospital was the worst place he could be. They would take blood samples, blood pressure, find something wrong with him... Or worse than all of that, put him in a place with _sunlight_. "No. I'm fine," he said.  
Orphen sat back on his heels, frowning thoughtfully at the boy. "We had a quick earthquake. It's not too uncommon here... Why'd you freak out like that?"  
"Bad memories with earthquakes," lied Majik quickly, keeping his eyes downcast.  
The brunette continued to stare at him, his expression surprisingly serious. When the vampire finally raised his eyes, he realized that, despite their being different shapes and depth of wisdom and understanding, Killiranshelo and Orphen had the exact same colour eyes. __'Because he's the link to the Demon?' wondered Majik. Demons did have to leave some sort of mark to whatever -- or whoever, it appeared -- could be used to call them.  
"Is that why you don't have any parents?"  
Majik stiffened at the question, shooting the taller youth a warning glance. "Is that why you lost _yours_?" he shot back, aware he was acting too edgy.  
Orphen raised his hands, eyebrows shooting up. "I get it; I get it. Touchy subject."  
The blonde sighed, fingers clenching the grass beneath them. He had finally succeeded in calling Killiranshelo Finrandi, but he wasn't entirely pleased. Their conversation had been cut short, if there had even been one in the first place, from the way the Demon had acted. But he hadn't outright turned him down, had even told him he knew how to call him now. So that meant he wanted to talk to Majik, too... Right?  
He winced, bringing his hand to his head. "I feel sick."  
Orphen shook his head, standing up and dusting himself off before he helped the freshman to his feet. "Come on, I'll drive you home."  
Majik purposefully leaned against him, pleased when he felt the faint glow of Killiranshelo's power as he did so. Orphen was so useful, and he had no idea. "Thank you."  
  
_

  
"I told you! I told you, didn't I? I knew something like this would happen!"  
Azalea scowled in response to her tiny partner's outrage. Adrial's violet eyes were tinted with red as he shouted, his voice carrying surprisingly well through the empty library. He was small, but very loud.  
They were in Childman's study, or library as the case seemed to be. It was enormous, nothing unusual for a sorcerer his status. In reality, it was very small and modest for one so amazingly powerful and well known. Flameheart wasn't quite up to par in either department, but he lavished and spoilt himself with expensive things. Those were things Azalea loved about Childman; his modesty, his calm manners, his refined aura. He was nearly twice her age, but she loved him dearly, admired him for the powerful being he was.  
Though at the moment she wished she were anywhere _but in his home.  
Adrial paced across the table, still ranting. "... And they say there was another outburst of power, of _Killiranshelo's_ power! This can't go unnoticed, Azalea! That stupid vampire had something to do with it, and I'll bet ten to one he won't tell us!"  
The mage clenched her fists but forced a smile. "Adrial," she said with clearly tried patience. "I'm trying to think here. I can do it __better if you weren't screaming for the world to hear. Mortals next door will come barging in, asking what the ruckus is about!"  
The elf huffed, flopping down on his rear childishly. "They can't see me anyway," he said crossly, folding his legs crisscross style and leaning against one knee with his elbow.  
"No, but ten to one they can hear you," said the mage pleasantly. With as loud as _you're_ being, anyway."  
Adrial sighed loudly, running a pale lavender hand through his long hair. He was upset, which was easy to see. The elf was horrible at hiding his emotions. He was very loudmouthed, but it was no front. He was simply honest and open, and even if he did grate her nerves half the time, Azalea liked that. At least she never had to feed him poison just to find out what he was really thinking.  
"It's just getting out of hand," he said after a while. "Today Killiranshelo was called; he was called that one night, too. I know it, even if we didn't feel it at the time. And when's the last time you saw your brother's eyes?"  
Azalea bit her lip, leaning back in her chair. "Very long ago," she whispered. "I miss him. I wish he would remember me... He would have made a very powerful mage, perhaps even have the ability to level up to sorcerer."  
"Half-Demons can't do that."  
Azalea smiled bitterly. "Don't I know it." She narrowed her ruby coloured eyes at the elf. "And don't you breathe a word of that to anyone. If Childman's reputation is ruined because people find out he's not only living with, but sleeping with a half-breed..."  
"I get it," muttered the elf.  
Satisfied, she relaxed again. "Anyway, I don't think we need to worry too much. Despite what Fiena thinks, Killiranshelo is __not in league with Flameheart."  
"So why didn't we explain this?"  
She shrugged, twirling a lock of violet hair in her fingers. "It's not our department."  
Adrial scowled. "Now you sound like that vampire."  
Azalea laughed, her smile brilliant. "Is that so? I'll take it as a compliment. I like Majik, even if he does seem a bit unstable."  
"He's not just unstable. He's _insane_." Adrial's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, as though trying to make sure no one else would hear his soft words. "I fear for that girl's _life_ because of him. I know he hates her, but she *is* trying to make up for it by letting him hurt her. It's not entirely her fault, either. I wouldn't put Majik below killing, not yet, not now."  
The mage sighed, rubbing her eyes with one hand. "I know, I know. But there's nothing we can do. Vampire bylaws state that when one vampire owns another being, be it mortal, Demon, one of us, or one of their own, then the owned must stay with them either for life, until formal release by their owner, or until death of either party. We can't separate them for more than a couple days. That would only kill Cleao faster."  
Adrial shifted position, rising to his small feet. His glorious blue hair fell to his waist, shimmering in the dim room lighting. "So what are we going to do?"  
"Nothing," said Azalea. "There's nothing we can do. Perhaps, though," she added thoughtfully, "allowing Majik time with Killiranshelo will be able to prevent the imminent. Let's try it for a short while, a month tops, and see how it all works out."_


	8. Chapter Seven

**:: Illusions ::**

_~Sorcerous Stabber Orphen~_

Disclaimer: I don't own Sorcerous Stabber Orphen or any of the characters. Rights go to Sawada Hajime, Akita Yoshinobu and ADVision.

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Orphen/Majik, vague hints of random others

Warnings: AUness, OOCness, language, shounen ai/yaoi

Notes: I got a _Sorcerous Stabber Orphen_ doujinshi. XD Orphen/Majik, no less! I swooned, I giggled, I squealed… Two kisses! Two whole kisses! It's great!

And on top of that, my daddy installed Microsoft word; more special fonts! Yay! And on top of **that is the fact that I now have ****two songs by Orphen's seiyuu, and one of them is intended for the show itself! It's called "Tales of Destiny" and I'm in love with it. ^_^**

That said, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I know it took longer than usual, and the writing's not quite up to par, much less I think, but I promise to have another new plot twist here and there. ^^

The difference was glaringly obvious. That was the first thing Cleao thought when she found Majik lying on his bed, gaze glazed over as his eyes stared without seeing the ceiling.

Something didn't feel right. Or rather, it didn't feel normal. She couldn't tell if this was a good or bad thing, but it was _definitely_ different. The air was too calm for his presence, too deep and silent. Even when he blocked her from his thoughts, Cleao could always feel thick tension thrumming between them like an electric wire.

She rapped gently on the door, opening it fully. What surprised her was that Majik seemed visibly taken aback by her presence. Had he been that preoccupied? "Any luck?" she asked softly.

The blonde boy stared at her, uncomprehending for a moment. "Any...? Oh." His demeanor changed instantly, and he shook his head, scowling deeply. "No. Nothing. I was close, but it was a failure."

It was hard to tell if he was lying or not, and in all honesty Cleao wasn't in any position to believe that he was. "I see. Well, I'll be going out in a few hours. Shall I get you something?" Normally she would bring back an unconscious being, so that Majik wouldn't have to feel guilty about biting a live, writhing creature. She had grown used to it, but it seemed that the prospect still made her little partner squeamish.

"No. I'll be hunting myself tonight," was the reply.

She bit back a sigh, smiling slightly. "All right. Good day, Majik."

"Hmph." He turned his head back to stare up, this time his eyes narrow and intent. Knowing there wasn't anything else she could say or do without bringing intense discomfort or pain to the situation, Cleao closed the door behind her as she left.

She checked her watch. It was early; if she left now, she would get there before Azalea. She brought a hand up to her eyes, rubbing vigorously as she struggled not to cry. _'It's your own fault,'_ she told herself bitterly. _'Orders shouldn't have to be everything. You brought this upon yourself.'_

With that firmly in mind, she quickly went to change before leaving. Azalea and Adrial wouldn't be pleased, but they did have to be informed. It was her duty, after all, and since they had been dragged into this it was only right they get all sides of the story.

Incense could be smelled from the hallway; both the scent and the smoke burned Erris' eyes. She grimaced before opening the door to Fiena's room, not entirely surprised to find her kneeling in the middle of the room. Bowls were spread about, three sticks of incense in each one. There were four candles, one for each direction: north, south, east, and west. In the brunette's clasped hands were her sacred beads and her lips moved in silent prayer.

She did this twice a moon, once on the full and another on the half. It was a ritual, she said, for her clan. Though she was far away from her family and homeland, Fiena insisted on keeping the tradition alive.

Erris closed the door behind her, praying against all hope that the other residents of the orphanage wouldn't notice the strong smell. "Fiena?"

There was no response at first, but after a few moments the warm brown eyes opened, a frown gracing the witch's face. "Erris, please. I'm praying."

"I _know, _but this is important."

"Nothing is more important than my prayers and enchantments, Erris. Leave me be for another hour or so. I'll get to you when I'm finished."

Rarely was she so sharp and cold. Erris huffed and stalked out, making sure to slam the door on her way. It would serve her right if she had to put out a fire and waste her powers!

It may have been a mistake to act so childish, though. When Fiena found her two hours later, reading a paperback romance novel on her bed, the witch was less than pleasant. "What did you want?" she asked, still clearly annoyed at the previous interruption.

Erris purposefully ignored her until she finished the page. Then she bookmarked her place and peered over the book with smoky blue orbs. "That elf thing came by a short while ago." The _elf thing's_ name was Adrial, but Erris had never cared much for the creatures. For one, they were annoying, and two, they tasted bad even in fox form. "He said Azalea wanted to reveal more information in Killiranshelo. Something about she didn't want to say before, but the unexpected happened... I dunno."

The witch sat down at the foot of the bed, contemplating this. "I see. Did she say where to meet?"

"No, just something about the lingering vibrations at the park."

Fiena smiled. It made sense to her, even if it didn't to her partner. "I see. I'll be going, then."

"Hey," protested the orange-haired fox, jumping up as Fiena began to leave. "What about me? Can't I come?"

Fiena smiled, a genuine smile. "When you can barely relay a message? I don't think it wise, Erris."

"That's not far!" the shapeshifter argued, hounding after her partner like an attention-starved puppy. "You've been excluding me from so many secrets! I want to know things, too! Let me know!"

"You're such a child," murmured Fiena, slipping on her moccasins beneath her pale pink robes.

"_Fiena!_Don't you dare ignore me!" The witch hid a smile as she slipped out, hearing the soft curses as her partner scrambled for her jacket. Really, she _was_ a child... And she didn't mind at all.

In most mortal families, it would be unusual for a child to stay inside all the time. If he or she were to lounge around, sulking, doing nothing all day, then the parental units would worry. As it was, it was _very_ different when Majik was concerned. It was when he went out often, especially during daylight and _especially_ on the weekends, that Cleao grew concerned and worried.

Majik knew this, and he really didn't care.

"You're going out?" she asked him that Saturday afternoon, surprised to see him buckling the straps on his boots as he leaned on an arm of the couch for support.

He didn't glance up, tugging on the end of the belt. He was wearing all black, which went against his image of the innocent blonde boy, but perhaps it was because they made him seem that much more angelic that he wore it. "Yes. Not that it's any of your business."

"But... Wh--"

"I _said_ it's none of your business." Rather than sound rough when he emphasized the word, Majik was surprisingly silky. Actually, if Cleao dared think it, Majik had been amazingly pleasant for the past few days, particularly after the day he'd played hooky. It was strange, and Cleao knew it had something to do with Orphen. Exactly what, though, was still a mystery, though she did have an inkling on that.

Majik stood, thumping the floor once with his heel to be sure his shoes were on securely. "I'll be back either early morning or sometime tomorrow, depending on when I want to go hunting. If Azalea needs me, make her stay the night. If she doesn't, it's not that important."

"All right."

The small boy stared at her for a moment, half a smile on his lips. He reached out to her, brushing a lock of curly hair from her face in a gesture that was so tender it shocked Cleao. "In moments like these, I can almost like you," he said sweetly. Then his hand dropped as though he'd been burned. "Later."

Cleao stared after him, unsure if what had happened was real. Had he willingly touched her? Stroked her hair, even, the same way he did to Azalea when he wanted to make Adrial angry? But there was no Adrial, no one like him around. That was just strange...

Outside, Majik was being careful to skirt direct sunlight. He was wearing a jacket and the blue baseball cap that understandably drew odd looks, but he'd left his gloves in his closet, so he still had to be careful not to take his hands out of his pockets until he found shade.

He was in a fairly good mood, which admittedly was strange to him. Even if he couldn't successfully call Killiranshelo each time he tried, just being near Orphen allowed him to feel the Demon's power. It didn't bother him that he was using the human; if he was going to be this stupid, then Majik believed he deserved to be used.

He smirked to himself, quickly hiding the expression as he finally came to his desired location. Raising one hand, he rapped on the door with the back of his hand, using sharp, thin knuckles. Only moments later it was opened, and Orphen was gazing at him with mild surprise.

"It's Saturday, Ke-- Majik."

He was still adjusting to the sudden name change. The blonde shrugged, flashing a seemingly kind smile. "If you don't want me here, just say so."

Orphen hesitated, looking lost for a moment. "I guess, it's not... I mean..." He sighed, running a hand through his mussed hair. "Come in, then."

Majik was suspicious of the strange reluctance. As he entered he attempted to probe the human's mind, startled to find that he couldn't. Those occasions were rare, and normally only happened if the mortal either had a strong mental block or was protected by a magic-user's spell. None of the magic-users Majik knew had properly met Orphen, so there was no way of the latter happening. Was he a psychic, like Rai?

Belatedly, Majik also noted that the inside of his schoolmate's house was clean. From the few encounters he'd had with him, just outside the door looking in on most occasions, Majik knew he was careless as messy. It wasn't just picked up; it had gone through a thorough cleaning. Was this why he was so tired?

Not only that, the air was tense. Orphen wasn't at ease, and as Majik observed him from the couch, watching him fidget uncomfortably in the nearby chair, he realized that something was up-- something that struck home, at least to the mortal.

Feigning concern, as he was far more worried about the lack of presence of Killiranshelo's power, Majik inquired, "What's wrong?"

"Hm? Oh." Orphen shrugged, his slanted eyes shifting away from the blonde boy. "Nothing."

Majik frowned. "Orphen..." Then he saw it on the table, a white envelope. Only mildly curious, he picked it up. On the front was Orphen's name and address, but no stamp or return address was present. He didn't recognize the handwriting. The inside was empty; he could tell just by holding it.

"Oh, that... That's from my sister."

Aqua eyes rose. "I didn't know you had a sister."

Orphen smirked self-mockingly. "Neither did I."

Majik inwardly groaned about having to be submitted to such a dull conversation, but for the sake of appearances -- and hopefully later uses -- he pressed onward. "Long-lost? Like in our bad novel?"

The brunette didn't smile. "I suppose."

He wasn't being humorous. That was very disconcerting. Even if Majik's tastes were vastly different from Orphen's, he had quickly come to know what the senior student did and did not like. Of course, part of that could be contributed to his mind-empathic abilities, but the rest was simple research and reading of the body language. "Is this why you're so depressed?"

"I'm not depressed."

Majik sighed. "Melancholy, then. C'mon, what's wrong?" Then another thought struck him; the entire house was empty. Orphen was very well-known at school, so it only seemed natural for there to be at least a lingering presence of recent visitors. There was none. "Why aren't your friends here?"

Mahogany eyes blinked. When Orphen replied, his voice was oddly distant. "Because I haven't invited them over, of course."

"Don't they invite you over?"

"Of course not."

A prickling sensation was encompassing his body, and Majik did not find it pleasant. He could relate, oddly enough; he remembered his life before the drastic change, remembered that despite having wonderful parents he'd had virtually no friends. Of course that was why he had been so blind to Cleao and her feminine wiles.

He searched for something to say; it had been a long time since he'd felt this awkward. It was a human sensation, and he _knew_ he didn't like that. "I'm sorry."

Orphen shrugged. "You get used to it.

Majik tried to get back on track. "Who is this sister, then?"

The silence had stretched long and thin before Orphen deemed it a worthy enough question to answer. "I dunno. I never met her." He stretched out, trying to appear at ease. Majik knew better; the firmer outline of his arm muscles suggested definite tension. "But I know she's my sister... And even if she's not, I wouldn't mind her being. She's the reason I can live in someplace other than an orphanage."

Majik caught on. "She sends you money. To live off of."

"And then some," added Orphen, smirking with a bit of his true arrogance.

"And then some," agreed Majik, smiling faintly. If he had been paying attention to himself, he would have been shocked and furious to see he was forgetting about the importance of Killiranshelo's presence and getting too caught up in his tool's emotions. "Where are your parents?"

"Dead, of course," replied Orphen. "Since I was fifteen."

Majik leaned forward, elbow on his knee, chin resting in the curve of his palm. "Is this information you give out freely to everyone?"

"No. They all believe my parents are off on constant business trips."

It was hardly a clever lie, but they seemed to accept it. Majik muffled a snort of disdain; humans were so stupid. He narrowed his eyes at the teenager, eyeing him with intent criticism. He was hardly aware that Orphen had begun to speak again until he was halfway into his second sentence.

"In all honesty, you're the first person I've even told I had a sister. It gets me how we got estranged like that, and I'm curious about her... But I can't find her. I can't trace the stupid letters."

"She sends you letters?"

Orphen didn't dignify that with a response. His eyes were closed, hands clasped before him as though in prayer. His forehead rested against his knuckles, like he was pondering something heavy. Majik didn't like this silence especially. He didn't like that he was being drawn so deeply into a minor affair, one that shouldn't concern him.

At least, that was what he believed until Orphen murmured, "Majik, do you think things happen for a reason, or is that all just a bunch of crap?"

Majik stared, unable to resist the remembrance of the past. For a fleeting moment he could remember his mother's soft hands cupping his face, stroking his fine hair; he recalled his father's laughter and stern expression, his _to-hell-with-what-others-think_ attitude that could only be rivaled by his mother's.

Why *had* he been ripped apart from them? Was there a purpose to this damned life, or was it all just pointless? Was there a reason to *anything*?

Majik never answered that. "You're not crying, are you?"

Orphen immediately became defensive, as only a male did. "No," he denied while wiping his eyes.

Majik resisted the urge to roll his eyes, standing from the couch and crossing the room, leaning comfortably against the arm of the chair. He tilted his head down, murmuring, "Yes, you are." Orphen said nothing but looked away. Vaguely intrigued by this display -- or lack thereof -- of emotion, Majik's cold fingers touched the taller teenager's face.

Orphen, realizing his intent, pulled away. The blonde refused to be put off however, and he leaned forward again, capturing the brunette in a chaste kiss. Orphen shoved him away and said, "Now is _not_ the time."

The vampire ignored this. He knew he was using more strength than necessary to pull Orphen into the next kiss, which was not so chaste, but he was beginning to sense thought beneath the barrier the mortal had had up only moments before. Because he was warming up to the act, if not reluctantly, he was becoming easier to read. Their minds could become intimate, even if Orphen didn't realize it... But still Majik didn't feel the Demon he sought.

This frustrated him and he pulled away, but this time it was Orphen that forced him back. Startled by the sudden aggression, Majik heard him hoarsely say that he'd started it before he allowed himself to be pulled down, strangely unresisting to the fiery kiss.

It was only so Orphen could distract himself, and Majik knew it. Perhaps that was why he didn't argue or pull away, despite the absence of Killiranshelo's power. It was possible that regardless of the time and change, there still lurked a bit of Majik's former moral of "do as you know you'll receive." He was using Orphen as a channeling to a Demon's presence, and now Orphen was using him to take his mind off his troubled thoughts.

It was karma, thought Majik as he closed his eyes, shifting to adjust to the deeper kiss Orphen was trying to initiate. And if that karma felt this good, even if it was only a pleasure that brought satisfaction and no excitement, then he could live with that.

"Orphen?"

The brunette took a moment to acknowledge the femininely husky voice. "Hm?"

Majik drew his hand across the t-shirt of his senior, squirming so that he could rest his damp forehead against Orphen's. "If you don't mind my asking, what's your sister's name?"

Orphen groaned, closing his eyes once more. His head thumped against the armrest of the couch -- how he'd gotten there he couldn't clearly recall, but there he was -- before he said, "Why are you bringing that up? Don't."

The blonde chose not to respond verbally, instead pressing a surprisingly sweet kiss where his head had been leaning against. "You'll have to tell me someday. I know you will."

"Maybe," the brunette agreed tiredly. "But not today."

Majik's smile was strange. It almost felt as though his body didn't belong to him, the way he gently caressed the young man beneath him, spreading subtle comfort through his tense muscles. Normally he considered this a waste of energy, but even if it was he found he didn't care at the moment. Perhaps it was because he felt he was justifying his actions, making them better, by being at least half-honest with his feelings.

But then, Majik never knew which feelings were his anymore.

"You hide yourself," Orphen said suddenly, jarring the vampire from his previously, shockingly calm thoughts. "What about you? I've told you so much; why don't you let me in?"

Majik laughed, a very hollow sound. "You'd regret knowing how or what I think," he told him. "You're better off not knowing. People usually are."

"I'm not. I care about you."

The feeling he experienced next was akin to an iron spike through his foot. Majik's eyes widened, fear flickering in them. _'What? How can he... I only just... What the **hell**?'_ Rather than panic, he managed to say mildly, "How quickly you've grown attached to me."

"I know. It's scary, isn't it?" Orphen shrugged. "But you're different, somehow... Not because you're a guy. You'd have the same aura, I think, even as a girl."

_'Oh, you have no idea how wrong you are,'_ thought Majik savagely. Surely, had be been borne female, he would never have fallen for Cleao, thus never been turned immortal, condemned to a life he hated but didn't hate enough to commit suicide to escape from it. It was so confusing, making him dizzy, but all he could do was plow forward. And so he always had.

"You're just tired," said Majik delicately, drawing away.

"Hm. Maybe." Orphen grasped his wrist, sienna eyes blazing despite his claim of tiredness. "Nevertheless..."

Majik shuddered, yanking his arm free of the grip. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" asked Orphen cockily.

The blonde barely restrained from unleashing vampiric fury and fright upon his mind. He wasn't scared of Orphen; not really, it was more like he was frightened of the reactions Orphen _caused_ him. He clenched his eyes shut momentarily. _'Killiranshelo!'_

No answer. Well, he hadn't expected one. Majik inhaled raggedly, whispering, "Don't look at me like you care. You don't." He stepped away, and this time Orphen made no move to stop or restrain him. The vampire's iridescent turquoise eyes wavered, and for a half-mad moment Majik thought ht was going to cry. But he managed to retain it, much to his relief. Shaking his head, he grabbed his coat and left as quickly as possible, ignoring the faint swell of Killiranshelo's power. If he wouldn't come when Majik needed him, then he refused to answer when the Demon wanted him.

A few moments later, barely out on the sidewalk, he was stopped with a sudden, amazingly clear thought. _'Wait. I have the answer you wanted.'_

His breath caught. _'Killiranshelo...'_

_'Promise to summon me effectively next time,'_ said the Demon firmly. _'And I will give you what you want.'_

_'I promise,'_ said Majik without hesitation. He didn't understood what Killiranshelo meant by the improper summoning, but that didn't matter right now. He would do it next time.

However, the thought was washed from his mind only moments later.

"Majik, wait!"

The smaller vampire ignored the female call, charging forward with blinded fury. His usually bloodless face was flushed, a combination of anger, embarrassment, and hurt all rolled into one emotion. He didn't bother to be gentle opening doors, despite the fact he was not on his own territory. One smashed into the wall with crushing force; there was a splintering sound and a loud crack of plaster.

Behind him Cleao tried to catch up. She could have if she wanted to, but the part of her that feared her partner's unstable power made her hesitate. And so all she could do was follow and call helplessly.

They ended up in what appeared to be an enormous living room. There was an indignant cry and the next thing that obscured Majik's vision was a lavender-tinted elf. "What the hell are you doing here?" demanded Adrial. "This isn't-- Awp!" His rant was cut short by Majik's grip, squeezing dangerously close to crushing bones as he didn't halt in his stride.

"Majik, don't! You'll kill him!"

Snarling, the blonde threw Adrial aside. Cleao had to move quickly to intercept it, lest he be tossed right into a wall and possibly die. Elves were strong, but Adrial was small. He was more fragile than most of his kind.

"_AZALEA!_" screamed Majik. "Azalea, get your ass out here _right now!_"

"Azalea is with the Master Childman," retorted Adrial from the safety of Cleao's body.

Majik's fists clenched, his lips thinning into a white line that stood out on his red face. "She'll come out whether she wants to or not," he hissed before bellowing, "I mean it, Azalea! You have explaining to do! I HAVE A RIGHT TO KNOW! _GET-- OUT-- HERE!_"

Within moments the door before him opened. Out came a sleepy looking, rumbled and very displeased mage. "What is it, Majik?"

"You knew," he hissed. "You knew he was the connection, didn't you? You knew!"

Azalea raised a fine eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"Don't play stupid!" Majik was throwing a tantrum, stamping his foot against the hardwood floor. "You know Orphen was the secret to calling Killiranshelo! You knew all this time because _you've been keeping contact with him as his sister!_"

To the side, Cleao gaped. Azalea, sibling to the mortal Majik had been using as a toy? Or rather, she was beginning to realize, a tool to keep in contact with Killiranshelo. His thoughts were wild, rampant, and she could sense _everything._ It frightened her.

"I _am_ Matthew's sister, Majik," explained Azalea patiently. "Yes, Matthew is Orphen. We're related by blood; I pretend not."

"_What?_"

Cleao couldn't blame her partner for the incredulous look on his face. This was all too strange. It was strange, crazy, unstable... Majik wasn't losing it, he _had_ been, slowly, over time, and Cleao was also beginning to see she had only caught a glimpse of it before now.

Azalea closed the door behind her, sighing heavily. She was clothed only in a long, dark blue robe, hastily tied. "Please, sit."

"No time," snapped Majik. "Explain. I'll stand, thank you."

"Very well," she agreed. "Matthew -- Orphen, I suppose -- is my brother. We're five years apart in age. I'm a mage, as you know, and Orphen... Orphen is a sorcerer."

"A sorcerer," repeated Majik slowly.

"Yes." Azalea's smile was tired, thin. "When he was but fourteen -- the same age your body presents -- he got mixed up with the wrong sort of people. They caught him unexpectedly, cast an amnesia spell on him, and just like that he was lost to me.

"Our parents were involved in the Magic-User's Anti-Restriction movement. I'm sure you remember what that was; the time the more powerful sorcerers began to argue amongst the other magic-users, demanding that Black Magic be used only amongst the higher ranks."

"Get on with it," Majik bit.

Azalea shrugged. "Well, ever since they got into that short, bloody battle with the 'wolves we haven't seen them. I suspect they're dead. In that sense, Matthew and I are, indeed, orphans. His nickname was not chosen inappropriately."

Majik considered this for a moment. "But how can he be the tool to finding Killiranshelo Finrandi, then?" he demanded. "You should have known this!"

"I didn't. Majik, don't you wonder how a mage and sorcerer can be related by blood?"

He didn't like this. "A bit."

"It's because he and I are half-breeds. Orphen and I are both half Demon. He just happened to get the better deal by being borne with direct access to sorcerous powers, whilst I was born a mage, destined to work toward a goal I can never achieve."

"But--"

Azalea cut him off. "Adrial and I only knew you were in contact with Killiranshelo. We could only guess Orphen was the link. You've just proven it to us."

Majik snarled. There was a faint sound like a dagger stabbing wood that only the vampires could hear. Cleao's gaze fell to her partner's clenched fists; his nails had dug in deep, and he was bleeding. "Majik..."

"Now that we know," said Azalea calmly, "we have orders to suppress this Demon. Majik, I highly suspect you're our best option in calling him. So we'll have to set up a scenario, you'll do your calling, and--"

"No."

Adrial, who had kept amazingly silent this whole time, finally spoke. "_No?_" he demanded. "What the hell do you mean no, you bastard parasite?!"

Majik's gaze glimmered, silver in aqua. "No. I won't call him. I won't suppress him."

The mage's red eyes narrowed. "We don't have a choice, Majik."

"If we don't suppress him, how can we be freed from Master Flameheart?" Cleao pleaded. "Majik, please, I try not to ask much of you, but I beg of you now--"

"What part of _no_ don't you understand?" Majik cried. Azalea blinked, startled to find that upon closer inspection, there were tears in his eyes. _'He's crying... Over Orphen or Killiranshelo, I wonder?'_ She didn't have time to mule over this; he was speaking again. "I refuse to do this. I won't take part of the Silver Moon anymore."

"_Majik!_"

"You are bound by oath," Azalea reminded him. "You can't escape."

At first the smaller vampire was silent. Soon, though, he looked away. "I was wrong to think we were at all alike," he murmured. "We're completely different, aren't we, Azalea?"

"Completely," she agreed emotionlessly.

"Then let me prove just how different we truly are." Majik turned from her, advancing now on Cleao. The curly-haired blonde gasped, taking a hesitant step back, but no further. His gaze pinned her in place as his hand rose, making an obscure movement in the air. She was braced for pain, torment, anguish...

But was instead completely shocked to hear the words, "I release you."


	9. Chapter Eight

**:: Illusions ::**

_~Sorcerous Stabber Orphen~_

Disclaimer: I don't own Sorcerous Stabber Orphen or any of the characters. Rights go to Sawada Hajime, Akita Yoshinobu and ADVision.

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Orphen/Majik, Majik+Killiranshelo, Cleao+Majik

Warnings: AU, violence, language, shounen ai, strangeness

Notes: Meh. Everyone's disappearing in this fandom. *shakes her head* Mina-sensei's seemed to have disappeared off the planet altogether. O_o Where are you people??

Eh. *shrug* Here's the next part, finally. And my med's are kicking in big time; I can barely see what I'm typing. Should sleep now. Yes. Sleep is good… Mmm…

She should have been happy. She should have been... So why _wasn't_ she?

Cleao had been agonizing this over the past two days. Ever since Majik had uttered those three words -- _"I release you,"_ -- she had wondered and worried over just one question: _Why?_ Surely he gained nothing by releasing her of the vampiric bond and refusing to take part of the Silver Moon under Flameheart's orders... did he?

None of it made sense. For the undead life of her, she simply couldn't figure out why he'd free her. It was so secret Majik hated her and wanted to punish her in his own twisted -- though justifiable -- way.

It just didn't make _sense._

She sighed, glancing at the closed door. He hadn't come back, not since that day. She had lost all traces of him, and at the moment Flameheart was absolutely livid. Azalea was doing her best to find him, and even Adrial was pitching in.

But Majik, it seemed, had disappeared without a trace. She hadn't even seen him at school.

Cleao brought a hand to her face, stifling another sigh. _'And then there had been that run-in with his teacher...'_

_That_ had been most interesting. After school just that afternoon, Cleao had been called to Mr. Burns' classroom. She had assumed he wanted someone to give Majik's homework to him, and she was supposedly his sibling. Cleao had gone, making up excuses for a bombard of questions she was sure she was going to receive.

Mr. Burns' had been surprisingly pleasant. He was reputed to be a strict, cold-blooded teacher. "At ease," he'd said the moment she came in. Obliging, Cleao had taken a seat near his desk...

_The old man smiled a strange smile. His eyes were a shockingly deep colour of green, and they pierced her, making her nervous. "Well, Miss Cleao Kaughten. You are Kevin's sister, I assume?"_

_"Yes, sir."___

_His smile had broadened. "I see. Then may I safely assume you're also his partner in the Silver Moon?" Cleao had gasped, her eyes enlarging to impossible widths. How had he gotten that information? That hadn't been a part of the papers she'd filled out for the school!_

_"At ease, Miss Cleao," Mr. Burns chuckled. "I thought you knew by now. Kevin never told you I had a strange aura?"_

_"He did," she whispered faintly. Then she did a double take. "Ah... sir, his name is Majik."_

_"Majik," Mr. Burns repeated, eyes dimming slightly. "So it's true, then, that he's disappeared."_

_"Yes, sir."___

_"And that not even you have found him, despite his power over you?"_

_"He released me, sir." Cleao became suspicious. "And if you worked for Master Flameheart, you would know that. You're with Childman, aren't you?"_

_"I am an ally," Mr. Burns agreed without hesitation. "And whatever loyalty you have for your master, whatever you have left at all, I want you to set it aside for the time being. I have much to explain." His eyes narrowed; the look sent shivers down her spine. Surely he wasn't human! He was allied with Childman, so he was likely to be a magic-user. Either out of favouritism or sheer coincidence, many of Childman's allies and students were magic practicers, such as mages, witches, warlocks, and even a few sorcerers. Added to that were the less human creatures, such as elves, sprites, unicorns -- who could change into man forms when needed -- and fairies._

_But to put aside her loyalties to Flameheart...__ Cleao realized that it would be easy to do. After all, he would never know this conversation had happened, and only her former ties to Majik and now her oath to Flameheart were all that held her to him. She had no respect for him whatsoever._

_Cleao nodded firmly. "I can do that, sir."_

_Mr. Burns smiled. "Very good, Miss Cleao." He leaned forward, and fort he first time Cleao noted a strangely shaped scar beside his right eye. "Listen closely, for I don't want a single word of this to miss your keen vampiric senses._

_"You know that, at the moment, Childman and Flameheart are in a subtle battle for power. Obviously, Childman is that much better as he knows more of the white magic arts, correct?" Cleao nodded. "But the way this works is whoever has more allied power at his disposal shall be the winner. That way there's no useless bloodshed like there had to be in the past to choose a great sorcerer. And, that way, we don't have to lose another great sorcerer that would do fine in a lower rank. Correct?"_

_This was all review for Cleao. "Yes, sir."_

_"Childman possesses a subtle charm and sense of justice that Flameheart lacks. Flameheart gives people no good reason to ally with him, thus why his resources are few-- or so they seem. Correct?"_

_Cleao blinked, puzzled. "So they seem?" she echoed._

_Mr. Burns raised a bushy eyebrow. "Doesn't Flameheart have much of the Demon race at his disposal?"_

_The blonde paled and started, clutching the edges of the desk she was sitting at. "What-- how--?!"_

_Bemused, he remarked, "You'd make the perfect person to interrogate. You're too jumpy."_

_Cleao flushed with embarrassment. _'It's because Majik's made me so nervous for the past two hundred years,'_ she thought, though it had no bitterness behind it. She still believed she'd deserved everything she'd gotten, and even now still believed she hadn't fully paid the price for ruining the poor boy's life, his outlook, his chastity..._

_Mr. Burns waved the small matter aside. "Childman knows for sure that Flameheart has these Demons at his disposal. However, they seem to be missing a key factor."_

_"Killiranshelo," she supplied._

_The older man nodded. "Apparently when the demons sided with Flameheart, he rebelled and was cast out. But this was before they realized his true power. They'd overlooked it before, dismissing the signs for eccentrics..." He smirked. "Do you know what this particular Demon can do, Miss Cleao?"_

_"No, sir."__ She knew he was strong, especially as far as Demons went, but other than that she knew nothing._

_"He can merge with human beings."_

_Cleao stared. A normal Demon could call upon the powers of Hell, and their summoning powers determined how strong they were. They could also control the weak-minded... but to merge with a human?_

_Then she put it together. "He merged with Orphen!"_

_"Precisely," said Mr. Burns, smiling in satisfaction. "And your Majik was drawn to him for that reason. As I understand it, he suffers from severe desolation."_

_Cleao bit her lip. "But... How could he? I was always there, and then he had Azalea--"_

_"Ah, but weren't you the one who killed him?" Mr. Burns cut in. "Surely he hated you for that." Cleao nodded; she couldn't deny that. "And I don't mean desolation from the lack of people. I meant desolation from the lack of empathy."_

_In that case, he was completely alone, she realized. "But then... Why Orphen?"_

_Mr. Burns frowned. "You need to do more research, Miss Cleao. Orphen is a boy-- a young man who has lost his parents and family. He's alone in that sense. Majik has lost his family as well, due to your actions." Cleao flinched._

_"But... He always seemed so much more obsessed with Killiranshelo than Orphen."_

_"And why wouldn't he be?" Mr. Burns smirked. "Demons are amazing creatures, and your dear boy Majik seems to have a fondness for anything he can't have. Doesn't he?"_

_Then, as if that hadn't been a painful enough sting, he added, "After all, he couldn't have you, could he?"_

Cleao sighed and brought her knees to her chest, trying to fight inevitable tears. _'If only I could apologize, take it all back somehow... Oh, Majik, you know I would!'_

It had been very unfair. Back then her old master had been in a similar situation as Flameheart. However, the Demons had been more at large then, and he couldn't use them. Thus, he had his subjects seek the best of the humans or surreal beings, and then brought them over to their side.

Even then, Majik had been a brilliant boy. He'd been a little silly, clumsy, and sometimes acted downright foolish, but his mind was amazing. He had been a true prodigy, who could learn just about anything after only one, occasionally two explanations. And then it was nearly impossible for him to forget.

That, to Cleao's old master, had been insanely valuable. He'd wanted that boy on their side more than anything at the time, and so Cleao had been assigned to attract and change him.

Even still, though they had been orders of the utmost importance and could have cost Cleao her life, she desperately wished she could go back and change it. Things wouldn't have been this horrible, perhaps.

"Majik," she whispered hoarsely. "I'm sorry... Please, be careful."

Then she allowed herself to dissolve into tears of mourning and regret.

"You can't stay here, you know."

Silence met his remark. Scowling, Killiranshelo tipped his head to the side, observing the mute boy. Majik was sitting on the floor, hands locked behind his neck and eyes staring at the ground as though thoroughly fascinated.

It was an easy lie to see through. The boy was in torment, yet he was unwilling to let it out. Killiranshelo _knew_ he wanted to; he had clear access to the boy's mind. But until Majik admitted it aloud, he would never have any peace of mind.

The Demon sighed loudly, pacing across the room on all fours. "Look," he said shortly. "I can't stay long. Orphen will wake up soon."

"Um," Majik mumbled.

Killiranshelo's eyebrow twitched; that better have been agreement. "Wasn't the purpose of your seeking me out to talk to me?"

Majik finally looked up. He had circles beneath his eyes, and his mouth was curled in a lopsided smile. He looked insane, and Killiranshelo had no doubts that he was-- and if not yet, then he soon would be. "Funny thing," the vampire said dreamily. "Now that I have the opportunity, I can't."

Killiranshelo's ears flattened to his head. _'Typical **human** reaction,'_ he thought irritably. Then, aloud, he pointed out, "But you nearly blurted everything to my counterpart, Virgin Boy."

Majik ignored the taunt. "Orphen's different."

"How?" Killiranshelo demanded. "He's only human! I used to be him, you know."

"Did you, now?"

Killiranshelo bristled. "Yes. There was an accident with his sister quite some time ago, and I was driven from his body. I'm the Demon he possesses; without me, he is simply a sorcerer." He wouldn't have told Majik any of this had the boy still been under Flameheart's rule. But Majik had run from that, hiding in the least likely place: Orphen's psyche. Vampire powers usually didn't extend that far, but Killiranshelo also knew that Majik was a prodigy in more ways than one. And when he wasn't in the oblivious youth's head, he was with him, in his house. It was so obvious a place to look, that no one had bothered to check there.

"When he's awake, I just lurk nearby, waiting for him to sleep again so I can go out and eat. I still need to survive, you know." Without warning, Killiranshelo pounced on the boy. Majik may have been able to dodge, but he didn't even make the effort to try. "Damn it!" exploded Killiranshelo. "Tell me something! Let someone in for Christ's sake, Majik! You'll hurt yourself!"

"Too late for that."

Killiranshelo bit back a frustrated growl. "Majik, what do you want? I mean, really want? I know you don't want me, or Orphen. You want _something_."

The blonde looked thoughtful, almost sane for a moment. "What I want," he said slowly, "is my family back. My life. My ignorance." He sighed, finally meeting Killiranshelo's burning amber gaze. "I want what I can never get back. My old life meant more to me than I ever believed possible."

The Demon sighed. He had an answer, but no way to help. "I'm sorry."

Majik closed his eyes. "So the only way to have that is to have some_one_; someone whom I can empathize with, who can understand me as a person and not as the vampire I even hate myself to be. I hate humans, but I hate vampires more."

Such a strange, curious boy. "Perhaps the time has come, then, Majik."

"Perhaps," he replied dully, the shutters falling back in place.

Killiranshelo smirked. "Orphen's waking up. Leave. I need to rest, too."

Majik nodded, his eyes still closed. A moment later he faded from view, simple as that. Once Killiranshelo was certain he was gone, he allowed his consciousness to drift. It was his turn to rest, and Orphen's turn to wake. And, if Majik did as he should, Orphen would be learning some interesting things soon enough.

Orphen awoke to the pleasant sensation of someone stroking his hair. It was affectionate, touching something deep inside of him that reminded him of his longing for his family-- most of all, his sister that he couldn't remember.

He didn't stir at first, clinging to the residue of the feeling. Finally, he grew restless and did move. His eyes slit open, and he found himself gazing groggily at Majik.

_'The sort-of-but-not-really boyfriend,'_ he thought, not entirely sarcastic. "What time is it?" he murmured.

The blonde didn't seem to find his question strange. "Nine o'clock. It's not late at all. You fell asleep early."

Orphen snorted, smirking. So he had, it seemed. He sat up, freeing himself from the boy's grasp. "Then maybe you'd better be on your way home."

Majik sighed. "I don't want to." Then, surprisingly, he leaned against the taller youth. His eyes were half lidded, gazing ahead at nothing. "You're warm."

Orphen cocked an eyebrow. The boy was definitely strange, but that strangeness was part of his charm. At least, to Orphen it was. Majik could have easily passed for a girl, but he was completely male. He was just weird; he acted feminine at times, but then there were times Orphen would catch his gaze and get the chilling, disturbing feeling that Majik was much stronger than he knew.

"Tomorrow's a Thursday, though," reminded Orphen. "_I_ have to go, even if you don't. I have a test, remember?" A stupid one, a history test, but he had to make sure his grades stayed on an even level so he could graduate. He didn't understand why Majik was more concerned about that sort of thing.

The boy frowned. "So skip. You always do."

"Yeah, but I have to go often enough to graduate. I don't want to _stay_ there."

Majik said nothing. Even so, without the words, Orphen had the feeling he was displeased. No, scratch that; he _knew_ Majik didn't like it. Even still...

"Just this one last time," Majik pleaded suddenly. "I promise, I'll never ask again. Please, Orphen."

Oh, he was doing the puppy-eyed pleading thing. Orphen _hated_ that more than anything, because Majik was both too cute to resist and managed to make him feel guilty if he said _no_ when the boy wore that sort of expression. He sighed and looked at the ceiling, searching for the word, but it wasn't there.

"All right. Just this once."

Majik smiled faintly, closing his eyes. "Thank you," was all he said. Orphen stifled a second sigh and submitted, knowing there was nothing more he could do to get out of it. Even so, Majik had been acting strange lately. Before there had always been an assured calm about him, and though he was quieter than before, Majik had the strangest feeling of chaos and complete bewilderment about him.

But Orphen didn't want to talk. That wasn't what he was used to. So he was contented to sit there silently, pondering over the strangeness of it all until Majik finally fell asleep.

_'I can't do it.'_

_You coward.___

_'... I know.'_

Majik wanted to scream, as though it would help. He hated the quiet; he hated that Orphen refused to do anything but just sit there, trying to assure himself he was being there for the boy. He needed something to distract the voices in his head, the ones that insisted on taunting him. He was like a child all over again, running from the verbal abuse.

_They'll find you. They'll realize where you are soon enough. And even if you hide if his psyche for a long time, they'll eventually find out. They're not stupid. Plus they have Adrial._

_'I **know**.'_

_And if you **did** stay within Orphen's psyche, you may very well destroy it, him, and Killiranshelo._

In his mind, Majik was clamping his hands over his ears in attempt to shut the voices out. _'I know that! I know! Stop it!'_

_Stop it? Stop what? Stop telling the truth? Stop making you face what you're afraid of, you **pansy**?_ Even the juvenile taunts had their effect; Majik could almost feel the venom the voices spat. _Or maybe we should move to a different subject, hm? How you lied?_

_'I never lied!'_

_To Killiranshelo, you lied._

_'I did not!'_

_Not telling the entire truth is the same as lying._ If the voices also had expressions, this one would be smirking. _Why didn't you admit it? That you loved him? Because you don't want to set yourself up again. That's good. That's very good. Because you're a fucking **freak** to love a Demon as well as a human-- not to mention the very same human that Demon shares a body with!_

Majik grit his teeth, trying not to let his control slip. If he did, he'd most likely lash out at the voices, which may have in turn have him attack the nearest living creature: Orphen. He tried to tell himself the voices were wrong, he hated _all_ humans, even Orphen.

But that small, annoyingly honest and childlike part whispered. And that whisper dominated everything, even the shrieking in his mind.

_But he's everything,_ the whisper said. It floated through the intricacies of his mind, weaving spells and murmuring enchantments in the way only a sorcerer could compete with. _He's the closest thing that represents all you lost. Because..._

_'He's...'_

_The same..._

_'As...'_

_YOU._

Majik shivered. Why was this murmur so much louder than the screams? Why was the impact worse than that of the crushing forces of the taunts and jeers? He knew there was something wrong with him, mentally, but he hadn't thought it to be _this_ bad.

Perhaps nobody but him realized it. That made him feel even worse than ever.

"Majik?"

The blonde jerked, opening his eyes. He only had to tilt his head back a bit to find Orphen gazing at him, dark eyebrows stitched in a frown. "Hmm?" he murmured.

Orphen frowned. "Are you okay?"

Majik paused before answering, realizing that he'd unconsciously grabbed a tight hold of Orphen's wrist in his sleep. He grimaced before quickly releasing him. "Just a bad dream," he lied. "No worries."

The taller youth gave him a quizzical look, but evidently decided to shrug it off. Or so Majik thought, before he caught a fleeting thought in Orphen's mind. He barely had time to prepare himself for the kiss. It took him by some surprise, all the same. Usually Majik would start, and let Orphen take over. This was new.

When Orphen did pull back, he was frowning still. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but you'd better fix it soon."

_'Wrong with me?'_ Majik blinked, absorbing this, and then smiled faintly. He hadn't kissed back, which Orphen obviously found unusual.

"I'm just tired," he replied, resting against him again. "Stay with me..."

He heard Orphen sigh, but he made no movement to get away. It was somehow reassuring, and when Majik drifted off again, he was desperately relieved to hear the voices quiet. They knew they couldn't harm him in this rare, safe little bubble-- and that was good.

He was perfectly fine...

She couldn't sleep.

Cleao had been tossing for hours. She'd gone out to feed, but it had done little to assuage her restlessness. It was highly irritating and unnerving because she kept thinking of Majik.

_'Damn,'_ she thought bitterly, sitting up and swinging her feet over the side of the bed. _'Damn myself. It's my fault anyway.'_ She couldn't shake that feeling, though she knew it was only half true.

_'I have to tell him what Flameheart is doing,'_ she thought, contemplating her situation. If she could somehow find him and explain the current situation, maybe they could work together to try to make sense out of it all. It was a far-fetched idea, a very obscure one at that, but she had to try, right? She didn't have a choice.

Fiena had tried, but had been little help or comfort. "Perhaps it's for the best," the witch had suggested. "Majik didn't seem to be in his right mind."

"Rai said his brain waves were off," Cleao had replied dully. "It's nothing new to me. But him not being here doesn't make anything better for me. The guilt eats at me more when he's not here to make me repent-- and he knows it. That's why he released me, you know."

Fiena hadn't anything to say to that, so the conversation had immediately been dropped.

But there had to be more to it than that. Majik was unbalanced, which basically meant he was at his worst and most cunning. There had to be _some_ piece of the puzzle Cleao was missing. It frustrated her that she didn't know what.

_'I'll go ask Rai for a reading,'_ she thought, then banished that idea. _'No, he's busy enough as it is. I can ask Fiena to track down his residual spirit, I think... and maybe from there we can see what happens.'_ She could only hope it would happen for the best, whatever it was.

Cleao finally stood, feeling a brush of wind on her cheek. Long, curling golden strands tickled her face, and as she brushed the mild annoyance away she noticed her window was open. She frowned; she could have sworn she'd shut it.

She _was_ tired, though. Even with her vampiric memory, it was possible she just wasn't remembering correctly. She walked over to shut the window-- and for the first time, realized there was another presence in the room.

"Too slow," a voice whispered, breathing warm air just below her ear. Cleao stifled a scream and whirled around, striking out at the trespasser. Her blow was caught surprisingly easily, and then her captor twisted her wrist. She winced but stifled another scream, this time of pain. She kicked hard with her foot, and managed to catch him in the shins. But all too soon an incredible power coursed through her, drowning her in pain and agony.

Cleao emitted only a tiny whimper, staggering. Another fresh wave, ten times stronger than the last, weakened her knees, and she collapsed. She was half blind by now, unable to summon the strength to even use her voice.

"Pay for your wrong-doings," the voice murmured, and then there was a stabbing pain in her lower ribs. Her scream was weak, barely above a whisper, and what vision she had left was stained with red.

_'Majik...'_

Something hard crashed into her head with crushing force, numbing any other pain in her body. After that, everything was just darkness.


End file.
